Gunsight
by Bourbon Rose
Summary: The best love stories are the ones we have to fight for. Logan Wright is an assassin whose job it is to kill Julian Larson. AU. Jogan. Based off CP Coulter's fic Dalton.
1. Pilot

**So I got this prompt in my ask-box, and I thought it was kind of awesome and I kind of fell in love with the whole idea, so I decided to turn it into a multi-chaptered fic :) I hope you all like it :) You should probably know that everything I know about weapons and stuff like that, I get from the internet. I suck, I know XD Also, the rating is "T", but that might go up in later chapters.**

**_The prompt/summary_: Superstar Julian Larson being targeted by Assassin/Spy!Logan, but Logan can't kill him 'cause he fell in love with him.**

**_Disclaimer_: I own absolutely nothing except the plot—although it's such a classical one, I doubt I even own that :P However, all recognizable characters belong to CP Coulter and her amazing fic Dalton. I also do not own Glee. Obviously.**

**(Logan's 'preface' has already happened**—I don't know why it's called preface, just go with it XD Julian's has yet to happen, though.)****

**Enjoy people :)**

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><p><strong>Prefaces<strong>

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><p><strong>John Logan Wright III<strong>

Green eyes peered over the sniper rifle, squinting as they tried to get a good aim on the famous actress in the house. It was a building with many windows, and as Logan crouched down—uncomfortable between the bushes and in the ice-cold wind—he smirked, his sharp gaze following her carefully, the gunsight exactly right.

He shifted a bit, groaning when he felt his sore muscles strain in protest.

This was an easy job. Almost too easy, but who cared anyway? He certainly didn't. Hell—he'd even taken his meds this morning and he had _still_ a clear sight on the target.

He shifted again, laying the rifle on the ground, wanting to wait until it was darker—when he was absolutely sure he would be invisible.

Smirking, he allowed some arrogance to shimmer through in the hazy mess of emotions and thoughts the pills caused. Raking a hand through his hair, he leaned back against the trunk of a tree.

He was an excellent sniper.

Every job, mission, operation—he finished them all efficiently, always walking away without looking back, without regrets, without leaving any traces.

He didn't enjoy it. But he was good at what he did. And he got enough money with it to live his life.

His eyes narrowed as the sun finally slid under the horizon, and the metal of his weapon felt cold and hard as he picked it up without making a sound.

He put it against his shoulder, calculating gaze searching for the actress. A shadow filtered through the light curtains, and for a moment Logan thought that he saw the woman dancing—slowly, elegantly, almost erotically.

Shaking his head, he brought his slightly clouded mind back to his job. One green eye closed as he aimed, his finger curled around the trigger, raising the rifle to the exact right level—

—and he pulled the trigger.

The glass shattered spectacularly, and the actress sunk to the ground almost gracefully, the light curtains coloring a shocking red.

But the tall blond wasn't even there to see the mess he'd made—he disappeared noiselessly, rifle casually slung over his back as he stalked through the bushes.

Smirk long gone, eyes cold and emotionless—he straightened his back, exhaling steadily.

Up to the next job.

**-:-**

**Julian Larson-Armstrong**

The last things you see before you die—the last images flashing before your closed eyelids... they should be a movie of your life, right? The phrase 'sees his life flashing by like a movie' was so old and so often used, it seemed to be a standard. It seemed to be the universal belief.

But it's funny...

Because he didn't see the movie flicker in front of him, he didn't see the memories—of love, of pain, of friendship, of hopes and dreams and getting them crushed again—he didn't see those. You would think he'd see them—considering how much experience he had with movies and cameras and scripts...

But this wasn't in the script.

This wasn't in the script at all.

Brown eyes fluttered open, pain exploding everywhere—burning, scorching, white-hot, piercing, stabbing pain.

And as his hand moved shakily to his chest, his fingers touching something sticky and wet—he knew he was dying. The pain was everything he could feel, everything he could taste... creating a hazy curtain of only the hurt—making everything else vague and almost dreamlike.

He heard screams, felt hands touch him tenderly yet urgently, saw shadows crowd around him—and he felt it when breathing got harder, how his heart fluttered languidly, how his thoughts seemed to blur around the edges...

He knew he was dying.

And it was funny... but also sad in a way. Because the only thing that crossed his vision, the only images that came to him—were the dreams. It were the dire wishes, his heart's greatest desires... dreams and fantasies he was sure he would never live to see again.

He choked, feeling warm blood trickle from the corners of his mouth.

He'd fallen into the ocean and waves were tugging on his clothes, on his hands, pulling him under slowly and gently—the lulling whispers of the clashing waves deceiving him into an air of warmth and safety.

His eyes lost their sparkle, rolling back... finally closing.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Pilot<strong>

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><p>The room was thrown into absolute darkness, hiding the posture of a tall man, his blond hair falling slightly over his piercing eyes, clad completely in black, hands carefully clutching a sniper rifle.<p>

The man heard a chuckle and he wheeled around, squinting as the only light bulb in the room switched on—chasing away the dark in the middle, but making the corners seem even blacker.

There was a table under the light—the light that flickered annoyingly, like it was possessed… but then again… maybe it was—and on that table sat a young man, grinning widely as he turned his haunting eyes to the blond.

"Wright. Good to see you again."

But Logan merely cocked an eyebrow, staying completely silent, his fingers curling around his weapon possessively.

"I assume you just returned from your last job…?" the man inquired with a slight twitch of his mouth corners.

Logan nodded, eyes narrowing, pressing his lips together. He didn't _enjoy_ it—like the person here in front of him. He didn't _like_ doing this. He just... had no choice.

"Well—good," the man continued, obviously more than a bit irritated at the non-answers of his subordinate. He reached into his pocket, holding up what seemed like a photograph, before slamming it onto the table with such a loud bang, Logan almost jumped.

"I have another job for you," the man sneered, his lanky body leaning forward, fingers sprawled out over the photograph as he shoved it to the tall blond. He waited for a short moment for Logan to come to him—when the blond didn't move, he growled impatiently. "You have to _look_ at it in order to carry out the job, Wright."

Green eyes sent a menacing glare to him and the man cowered slightly in his seat, before straightening his back again—in a vain attempt to get control over the situation.

They both knew better though—that Logan was, in fact, the one with the most power, the most skilled one, the one who held the control here.

Logan casually twirled his sniper rifle in his fingers, before hanging it onto his back, his right hand immediately reaching towards the small Glock pistol on his belt. He stalked to the table and snatched the photograph from underneath the man's fingers, holding it up to his face, taking a close look...

...and his heart jumped.

Brown eyes stared up at him from the piece of wrinkled paper, a catty smirk painted on pink lips, dark hair sticking out in every direction. He knew that man—boy, really—the same age as he was. They were all just boys...

His thumb stroked over the paper, green eyes twinkling furiously.

Julian Larson.

It was _Julian Larson_.

"You want me to assassinate one of the most famous stars in Hollywood?"

"Yes."

"You want me _dead_?"

"I want you to do whatever it takes," the dark eyes of the man narrowed down to slits. "I don't care if you die."

With a last glance at the picture—and wondering what the hell was with all these actors that needed to be killed—Logan pocketed it, snorting derisively. "Touching. What did he ever do anyway? Is he mafia? I don't see him running around with a weapon. Why the primadonna?"

"It's personal," the man growled lowly.

Suddenly talkative, wanting to know what was behind this all—because one thing was sure, Logan Wright did not kill without a valid reason—Logan stared at his boss. "What the hell did he ever do to you? Hell—what did that girl ever do to you?" he narrowed his eyes as he thought of something. "Isn't that girl in the same series as Larson? What's it called? Something... something-something..."

"Something Damaged. Just do the job, Wright. Don't ask questions."

"Fine. I was just wondering what the hell he did to deserve being shot."

The man grimaced, eyes looking away absently, fingers curling into tight fists. His voice was a whisper—so soft, Logan almost missed his following words.

"...it's personal."

Logan raised his eyebrows, his eyes rolling from the ceiling to the door. "Well—okay... If that's all."

The man closed his eyes, shaking his head a bit. "He's probably going to hire more bodyguards, so you won't be able to get to him in his house."

"Hm. That's everything?"

"No," he narrowed his dark eyes, leaning over the table. "If you mess this job up—you'll be _done_, Wright. You understand?"

Frowning, Logan backed away carefully, mock-saluting his boss before leaving the gloomy room.

"Your wish is my demand, Clavell."

He didn't receive an answer—just an impatient snarl—and the tall blond turned around, disappearing from the house like he'd never even been there.

* * *

><p>"No."<p>

"But Julian, you—"

"_No_. God. This is ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? You call the death of Marcie Lillian _ridiculous_?"

Julian's eyes fluttered shut, before they opened and narrowed in fury. "_Why would you say that?_" he hissed.

Carmen crossed her arms. "Because she's _dead_ and you don't seem to care!"

The young actor exploded—all the anger, the grief, the utter confusion coming out at once. "I _do_ care! I _do_! It's just that all _you_ seem to care about is _my_ safety—and that's just _not_ my priority right now! Marcie is _dead_, Carmen! She's _dead_, and I just, I can't—" he pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away from the older woman. "I just can't deal with this now. And I think it _is_ ridiculous to hire more bodyguards. I swear to god—if I have any _more_ bodyguards, I will drown in them. I have enough. I don't _need_ more."

Carmen's tone softened, but her opinion kept strong. "I disagree—and so do your parents."

"My _parents_? Why the hell are my parents involved in this?"

The agent rolled her eyes. "You're their only son, Julian. I'm sure you can understand their _concern_. One of your cast-mates was murdered in cold blood!"

Julian scoffed, turning away from her, his eyes raking over the script of his newest movie—trying his damn hardest not to let the hurt get to him. That horrible, burning hurt and grief. "They don't care anyway. And they shouldn't," he gazed out of the window, picking up the script and ruffling the pages absently. "I'm perfectly fine."

"_Julian_—"

"Can you please go now?" he held up the script without looking at her. "I have a lot to do today."

He heard Carmen sigh when she surrendered—like she usually did. "Don't forget the invitation for tonight."

"I won't."

"And... the funeral tomorrow. Don't forget about that..."

How could he _ever_ forget about that? "_Carmen_—"

"I'm sorry, Julian, but—"

Biting his lip, he shook his head, sepia eyes closing. "Just—_please_—leave me alone."

* * *

><p>It was already dark when Julian got out of the limousine, getting received with cheers and excited cries of waiting fans and paparazzi. He walked the red carpet with a beaming, plastic smile, happily waving at people, giving out autographs patiently—until he finally disappeared in the big, luxurious building the party was given in.<p>

The event was loud—loud music, loud colors, loud people—and the young, successful actor was busy talking with co-workers, writers, directors and interviewers. His Cheshire smirk was on his lips all the time, his eyes bright and warm, his attitude welcoming, diva-ish as always—absolutely flawless. Nobody suspected the disastrous hurt he was hiding.

The young actor was well aware of the fact that he was being watched—paparazzi was swarming the place, along with the sharp gazes of directors and writers who were looking for actors to fulfill their roles—but Julian was oblivious to the sharp stare that followed his every move, every smile, every word—

—a gaze that was as cold as ice—emotionless, empty and calculating as it carefully studied him.

High in the building—hidden between the girders and the shadows they created, completely clad in black—sat Logan Wright, his skillful fingers readying the sniper rifle as his gaze raked over the chattering mass.

The blond was peering down his weapon, trying to get a good aim at the actor. However, it turned out to be quite difficult to get passed all the freaking bodyguards.

"Have you fucking hired every bodyguard in Hollywood or something? Jesus," he hissed, adjusting his weapon—but not getting a clearer sight. He muttered a stream of profanities, leaning back on his heels as he rubbed his temple in frustration.

"Okay, okay, okay—I've got this," he breathed, blazing green eyes closing, trying not to think of what was waiting for him if he screwed this up.

He opened his eyes again and as he leaned forward, his stare immediately fell on two people talking not too far away from Julian Larson. His eyebrows almost disappeared in his hairline as he shifted forward, his feet almost slipping off the smooth girders.

Was that...? But he knew almost for sure that the man talking to Julian's agent—Carmen?—was, in fact, Derek Seigerson. And they seemed to be getting along pretty well. Would Derek recognize him from their time at Dalton? Maybe... He could try. He was definitely in some contact with Larson—judging by the way he was interacting with the agent.

Logan sat back and smirked.

Maybe this was going to be easier than he thought.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading :) Your thoughts would be super-nice to hear. I kinda suck at multi-chaptered things, so I need a bit of motivation :P<strong>

**- Rose**


	2. Introductions

**Well hi there! Thanks for the reviews for Chapter One and thank you for whoever put this on their Favorites or Alerts, it means more than you can imagine :)**

**As the story goes along, ideas keep hitting me and I have to rewrite everything I had planned on occasion XD But we'll get there-eventually ;) It's still fun to write :) **

**Obviously, Glee is not mine. Dalton isn't either-that world and its beautiful characters belong to the amazing CP Coulter.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Introductions<strong>

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><p>The grey clouds and dreary sky seemed appropriate on this day. The dull drizzle fell on the black suits and dresses, making the black sparkle oddly, almost like a starry night. It was early in the morning and the moon was still visible. From time to time, it popped up from between the dark clouds, but it was just hanging there—not bright, not providing any light anymore. Like it had given up too, like it understood the sadness of this day—the day they'd bury Marcie Lillian.<p>

It was like in a movie, perfectly directed—the décor perfectly gloomy for the depressing scene.

But where Julian Larson normally would've been smiling at the cameras—now, the paparazzi was met with a deadly glare, brown eyes harsh and contrasting starkly with his pale face.

Stepping out of the limousine, Julian scouted the area around the church quickly, relief washing over him when he recognized the cast-members of Something Damaged. He walked over to them, trying to ignore the numerous bodyguards now following—appointed to him to his great dismay—and accepted Clark Sawyer's one-armed hug warmly.

"How you're doing, J?" the blond popstar mumbled in his ear.

Julian looked up tiredly, smiling without humor, eyes nervously sweeping over the black, grieving mass of people. "I'm holding up, I guess."

"I see they've increased the number of your bodyguards, too?"

"Don't even ask. It's ridiculous."

Cameron Pike came up next, greeting the youngest actor too, smiling sadly down on him. "It's not ridiculous, J."

Julian—in the meantime having greeted the other co-stars—rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Don't you go say that crap too, Cam—that we need bodyguards. That the "murderers" are coming after the fucking actors... That's bullshit."

Cameron shook his head, but before he could say anything, Alicia Thornton tugged on the sleeve of his suit. "Come on, I think they're going to start." Traces of her mascara were already visible under her eyes, and Cameron hooked his arm in hers.

Natasha Saunders elbowed Julian gently. "I don't thinks it's okay for you to curse on a funeral, Julian," she remarked, her hand pushing some locks of hair back in the neat bun it escaped from. She gazed around, noticing the cameras, reminding the others of it. "We're being watched, guys. Let's not create a big scene."

Julian glared. "We're _always_ being watched."

"That's my point."

Clark swung an arm around Julian's shoulders. "Let's just go find some seats, okay?"

The funeral was beautiful—kind, loving words were spoken of Marcie Lillian, the actress who had so much to offer, the actress that was murdered in cold-blood. They spoke of a true waste, of so much potential talent that Hollywood had lost that day.

But not only her career was mentioned. Her parents came up first to talk about her—their hands shaking, tears streaming over their cheeks, eyes filled with anguish, anger... but above all disbelief.

And that was actually the atmosphere throughout the whole burial—an overwhelming grief, but also a stunning incredulity that made this whole thing almost nightmarish.

Long before the ending—when the crowd had assembled around Marcie's grave—Julian had had enough of it. His eyes were still dry, but he could feel the dam breaking and he wasn't prepared to let the cameras catch that. He wasn't prepared to let the world see his own, private grief.

Whispering an excuse in Clark's ear, he rose quietly and stalked away.

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><p>Logan was standing apart from the mourning crowd, leaning against a tree casually, almost completely hidden in its shadow. His sharp eyes were focused solely on the young actor that was his target—watching his every move, like he'd been doing for the past few days. And when he noticed to his surprise that Julian Larson was walking away from the crowd—hands in his pocket and his eyes downcast—he pushed himself from the tree and started following him slyly.<p>

They'd walked for a good few minutes before the actor suddenly stopped. Logan raised his eyebrows when he saw him lean back against the wall, his hands coming up to clutch his hair, his handsome face contorting in hurt and grief.

He had watched some of the movies where Larson had starred in—hell, he'd even caught glimpses of Something Damaged when it was on television.

So... he'd seen the actor cry, he'd seen the tears stream across his cheeks, he'd seen the pretty brown eyes brimming with wetness... but it had all been in character, it had all been mere acting.

Because what he saw now... What he saw right in front of him... it looked completely different than on the screen. The actor's muted sobs and desperate expression displayed emotions more real and vivid than Logan had seen and felt in a long time. The actor didn't have his make-up on here, he didn't have the light hit him at the perfect angle—it was completely, absolutely pure and raw.

And Logan couldn't help himself being fascinated by it.

His hands gripped the gun on his belt, every fiber of his being screaming out to him, pointing out the obvious—that this was the perfect time to take out the target. The target that was so vulnerable, so isolated... all alone.

But looking at the crowd and back at the silently crying actor—completely oblivious to the danger he was in—he found himself frozen in his actions. He simply couldn't.

There was too much sadness already—hanging in the air, making it hard to breath—there was too much sorrow... too much death.

This was not the right time. He'd do it later.

And instead of finishing the job—Logan found himself completely mesmerized by the sobbing young man, who was making him feel things he hadn't felt in years.

The skillful sniper let his gun go and rested his back against the wall, his unwavering stare set on Julian Larson until the sun disappeared behind the horizon and the funeral finally ended.

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><p>A few days after the depressing funeral, Logan strolled over the streets, his eyes sweeping the area as he searched for the person that could make this whole operation a whole lot easier.<p>

He'd been watching Julian Larson for a few days now, but it proved to be difficult to get to him properly. He was always surrounded by people—bodyguards, security, co-workers, agents. So many people all centered around the young actor—it was almost ludicrous.

Most of all—it was just plain frustrating and the only way Logan thought he would be able to get to Larson, was reaching out to him from the inside.

And after walking for hours and hours, he finally, _finally_ spotted the person who was going to make that possible.

Derek Seigerson.

The young man was walking toward Starbucks, and with a grin on his face, Logan followed—making sure they collided when they simultaneously tried to fit into the doorway.

The smaller man cursed, stumbling when he almost fell. "Hey, watch where you're going—" Derek started, but he cut off when he caught sight of Logan's face. A large smile spread across his lips, his brown eyes widening in surprise. "I can't believe it—Logan Wright?"

"In the flesh," Logan said, tipping an imaginary hat. "Derek Seigerson—never thought I'd see _you_ around. Certainly not _here_."

"I know what you mean," Derek gave Logan a one-armed hug, laughing warmly. "Can't believe I meet you—now, after all those years."

Logan smirked cunningly. "Yes, it's such a coincidence."

Derek shook his head and grabbed Logan's elbow, not noticing how the blond winced slightly when he was touched. "Come on, we'll get some coffee and talk."

When they each bought coffee and they were settled on a table—Derek leaned forward with an excited expression. "So, what have you been up to in all those years? You kind of disappeared on us back there, you know."

Logan smiled, the old familiarity and friendship seeping back in very quickly. "Yeah—sorry about that. I just... things happened."

Narrowing his eyes, Derek took a sip from his coffee. "What happened?"

But the blond merely shrugged, clearly not in the mood to talk about it.

"You still on your meds?" Derek frowned when Logan snorted at this. "What?"

"Always bugging me about those pills—even _now_. Jesus, D, you haven't changed one bit."

Derek smirked. "And you've changed every bit. So, meds?"

Logan smiled, the familiarity making him lower his guards way too much. "I got new ones. The old ones... they weren't good. Made me forget things."

"Made you _forget_ things? As in, they made you lose your memory?" Derek asked in disbelief.

"Hm—yeah, something like that. They still suck, though."

Derek frowned, nodding slowly. "So, what are you up to now?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Logan grinned—not quite willing to talk about his recent jobs.

Derek shrugged. "Basically, I'm just waiting until I inherit my Dad's business—till then, I just do whatever life brings me."

Snorting, Logan shook his head. "Very poetic, D."

"I know. You?"

Logan bit his lip, taking a casual swig from his coffee before answering. "You'll never believe it."

His interest spiked, Derek raised his eyebrows. "What is it?"

Green eyes sparked when the blond suddenly had a fit of inspiration. "I've been working in security lately—"

"Security? _You?_"

"—and I just got from my last job, so I'm actually looking for a new one. You happen to know any?"

Derek looked at him for a while, disbelief obvious in his brown eyes. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No—I'm not. Do you know where I can get a job or not? I'm pretty good, so nothing too easy."

Derek shook his head, still not convinced, eying his old friend curiously. "Yeah—I know someone who could use some security."

Trying to hide his smug smirk, Logan sipped from his coffee. "You do? And who would that be?"

"You remember Julian Larson?"

"From Something Damaged, right?"

Derek's eyes flickered with questions, but he offered the job without hesitation. "Yes. He needs some bodyguards."

* * *

><p>"What? No! I just got <em>five<em> more—I don't _need_ another one, I don't _want_ another one!"

Derek grabbed Julian's wrist, towing him along to the living room. "Trust me, you _want_ this one."

"What? Don't—_Derek!_"

Julian struggled to get his wrist back—nearly toppling over when he succeeded. Derek just rolled his eyes, muttering a curse before he turned around.

"Listen, Jules. You need security—I don't even _care_ what you're going to say," he threatened when the actor opened his mouth defiantly. "You need people to protect you, you need people you can _trust_," Derek smirked and brushed his clothes haughtily. "You're not going to believe this."

Julian glared at him, absolutely seething. "I thought you were my _friend_, Derek. This is fucking _treason_!"

Derek didn't even try to hide his amusement. He laughed out loud and opened the door to the living room.

"Enjoy the treason, Julian," he turned around to push his friend inside, but instead he found the actor completely frozen, his brown eyes huge as he stared at the blond man in the room, sitting on the couch comfortably.

"Well," Julian said in a breath, "fuck me."

Logan stood up from the couch, walking to them with a smirk. He reached out his hand, hooking the thumb of the other in his belt—the perfect image of relaxed and careless.

"Logan Wright—to your service."

It took a few seconds for Julian to rip his disbelieving stare from Logan's face and to take his hand and shake it. "Julian Larson," he said, lips twitching in a smug grin as he slowly gained back his usual cool composure. "...but I guess you already knew that."

Logan rose one eyebrow and nodded. "Yes, I've heard of you."

The brunet tilted his head with a frown, smirk falling quickly. "Only _heard_ of me, Your Majesty?"

The blond frowned, looking bewildered as he clacked his tongue in slight irritation. "Are you serious? I've seen you a few times on the television, okay? I don't actually watch Something Damaged or any of the movies you play in—I'm not some stalker or fanboy of yours."

Julian jerked his head back in offence. "I didn't mean that," he retorted icily, eyes cold as they scrutinized the tall man. "Don't you remember me?"

"Remember you from _what_?" Logan asked, annoyance clear in his voice.

"That's cute, Logan—"

Eyebrows nearly disappearing in his hairline, the blond directed his piercing gaze at the smaller man in front of him. "And since when are we on first name-bases?"

Julian looked at him like Logan had sprouted two heads. "You're actually serious?"

"You tell me if I'm joking," Logan sneered irritably—and his expression made it seem very unlikely that he was, in fact, joking.

Julian gave him an odd look and he saw Derek do the same. Turning back to the tall blond, he smiled grimly. "Listen Lo—Mr. Wright. I'll be right back. I have to speak to Derek for a minute."

Not even waiting for an answer, the actor pulled Derek out of the room, slammed the door shut and pushed him against the wall. "Why the fuck is he acting so strange? It's like he doesn't know me—at all!"

Derek shrugged, expression miserable. "I don't know, Jules—but he said he's on new medication, because the old ones damaged his memory. Maybe he just doesn't remember you. I mean, you didn't really keep in contact with him after you left Dalton—"

"But we were friends!" Julian hissed, brown eyes swiveling back to the door with a burning look, almost as if he could see right through the solid wood. "He was my friend and I—what the hell_ happened?_"

Derek shoved Julian off of him and paced around with an anxious expression. "Listen, Jules—I don't know what happened, okay? But I _do_ know," and with this, he rounded on the actor, "I _do_ know, that _you_ were the one who _left_, okay? So you can sulk all you want, but you left and _you_ didn't keep in contact, so don't blame Logan. If anything, his situation must suck _way_ worse... Can you imagine those meds—the same meds we insisted he took!—made him lose his memory?"

"But he _forgot_ about me, Derek!" Julian snarled, raising his arms in frustration. "And he remembers _you_—why not me?"

Derek snorted. "You left in sophomore year, Julian! It's a freaking long time ago you two actually spoke to each other! Especially because_ you_ didn't answer any of his phone calls or texts, so—"

"It's just—how could he forget about me?" Julian seemed more upset than offended and Derek narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Why is it such a disaster he forgot about you, anyway? As far as I could tell, you guys always fought—so what big loss is it, really?"

Julian's eyes immediately darkened and he stared at his friend vehemently. "You're right," he snapped. "What's the big loss." He passed Derek and laid his hand on the doorknob. "I'm going to talk to him—"

"Jules..."

"—and I'm going to try and break through that thick skull of his," he smiled sarcastically, "let's see if he's still the same stuck-up Senator's son he was back then, hm?"

Derek rolled his eyes, taking a step toward his friend. He really couldn't see why Julian was so moved about this, but he wouldn't go take it out on Logan—Derek would make sure of that. "Don't do anything stupid, Julian."

Julian smirked his signature smile, the corners of his mouth curling up in a catty smirk. His eyes didn't appreciate the humor as much as his lips, though, and they remained cold and irritated.

"I won't. Trust me."

Derek flinched as the door opened and slammed shut again, the actor gone to talk to their long lost friend. He sighed and raked his hand through his hair, feeling distressed already.

_What a mess_.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it :) Please leave me your thoughts, reviews are immensely appreciated ;) Oh, and check out my Tumblr for more drabbles and things about Dalton; bourbonrose . tumblr . com <strong>

**I hope to get the next chapter out as soon as possible *blows kisses***

**- Rose **


	3. Take It All

**Hi there! :) I want to make an _important_ announcement first: This is probably the last chapter you're going to get from me in a while—I'm going away in the weekend and after that my own, personal _Hell-week_ will start. I'm not so excited about that. But I won't have much time to produce something pretty, so the next chapter might be out a bit later than usual. **

**I own nothing except the plot. Obviously.**

**Also—this chapter is dedicated to Gina (bitcheslovepolka on Tumblr). I've known her only for a month, but she's one of the closest friends I have, one of my favorite people in the world, holding my love forever and ever. She's amazing and gorgeous and always knows how to make me happy and smile. She's flawless and all of you with a Tumblr-account should follow her: bitcheslovepolka . tumblr . com  
>I love you, Gina *blows kisses*<strong>

**I hope you all enjoy :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Take It All<strong>

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><p>It had been years—<em>years<em> since Julian had looked into that face, _years_ since he'd gazed into those startling green eyes, _years_ since he'd felt this lost. Almost eight years, and despite all his effort to bury those memories forever—they came leaping back up as soon as he closed the door behind him, crashing, tearing, slamming into him with the vicious force of an uncontrollable hurricane.

It hurt, but then again, it was the most welcome feeling in the world.

He was in heaven, but in hell at the same time.

He wasn't upset, or sad, or melancholic—he was absolutely livid.

Julian's hands clashed to the table with a startling noise as he leaned towards the tall blond on the couch. "What the hell happened?" His brown eyes shot fire, burning vehemently in the unfazed green orbs staring right back at him.

Livid—because _he_'d come back, bringing along feelings Julian thought he'd _finally_ gotten rid of. And he didn't want to be that sad again, he didn't want to be that hurt again, he didn't want it to start all over.

Logan lifted an eyebrow nonchalantly, leaning back into the cushions of the couch.

"What are you talking about?"

"You _forgot_, Wright. How did that happen?"

Logan's green eyes narrowed as he retorted, words laced with a venom that came from years of bitterness, disappointments and losses. "I forgot a lot of things—but only the things that weren't really important anyway," he leaned forward, comfortable air long lost as his voice turned into a menacing hiss. "So you shut your fucking mouth about things you don't know anything about, Larson."

Julian's eyes were blazing as he snorted derisively. "We used to be friends, you know—before I left. We were never _close_ friends—I'll give you that, even if it was only because _you_ wouldn't let it happen. But there was a time me and Derek were your only friends. We were the only ones you got back then. And you tell me that was nothing important," he said, his heart twitching painfully. "I'm glad I made such an impression—really, it warms my fucking heart."

The blond raised his chin a bit, scrutinizing the actor sharply. "You're lying. I've never known you."

"_You tell me_," Julian hissed between clenched teeth.

Logan stood up, something foreign sparkling in his eyes—something Julian didn't understand, something he didn't want to understand—and he took two steps, taking the actor in cautiously.

"We were _friends_ at _Dalton_?" Logan repeated, lips twitching up in disbelief.

This was awesome, this was just _fucking_ awesome.

But it made sense, in a way. How Derek had assumed he knew the actor and how he'd given him a strange look when he didn't. How Julian was looking at him right now, fingers curled into trembling fists, lips pressed close together—his famous Cheshire grin having fled the room.

Despite Logan's inability to feel much when medicated—he knew a great deal about emotions. He'd studied them—quietly sitting in the corner of a coffee shop, he'd been observing people with emotions for years, trying to figure it out, trying to understand how it would feel... to _feel_.

Mostly, he'd been observing his targets—often people who'd gone down the wrong road and had tons of emotions, varying in such a wide spectrum, Logan had gotten to be amazed to utterly disgusted.

He knew emotions.

And what Julian Larson was displaying right now wasn't faked. It wasn't acted, it wasn't forced—it was utterly, completely real.

But how much he wrecked his brains trying to remember, the sniper's mind came up absolutely blank.

He hated to get personal with his targets—it made everything so much more complicated—but he couldn't ignore this. Because, despite what people thought and despite what Logan chose to show, he _did_ care about his memory-loss, and he _had_ mourned it, and he _did_ hate it.

So Logan sat down again, motioning for Julian to sit down too. The actor looked at him angrily for a moment, before following the blond's lead.

"What?" Julian snapped, moving to sit opposite of Logan, already done with this whole conversation.

Logan just rolled his eyes. "You tell me we were friends at Dalton and you don't expect me to ask you things?"

"Normal people would've remembered it," was the sharp reply.

"Yeah, and I guess normal people also don't take meds that make them forget things," Logan said dryly, raising an eyebrow defiantly.

Julian's gaze softened and he sighed wearily. "Okay, fine. Tell me what you _do_ remember."

"I remember Derek, obviously," Logan murmured. "I remember him and others from Dalton, people I graduated with. I don't remember you, though... but you didn't graduate from Dalton, did you?"

Julian snorted, leaning back in the couch. "I didn't graduate at all."

"Why not? You thought acting would be enough?"

"Yes. And I was right," the actor smirked smugly.

"Why did you leave in the first place?"

This time, a sad veil slid in front of brown eyes, and Julian's expression darkened as he looked down and back up through his eyelashes. "You really don't remember that?"

Annoyed, Logan clacked his tongue. "How many times do we have to go through this—I don't remember _anything_."

Julian seemed to be contemplating something, but when he lifted his chin, it was with his usual haughtiness and Logan raised his eyebrows at the rapid change of emotions.

"It was in sophomore year. I came back to Dalton after shooting a movie and I'd gotten sick—from the movie."

"Sick from acting?"

"No, _sick_. Just really sick. The character I had to play... it was a bit tough," Julian looked away from those prying green eyes, remembering that time so many years ago. The memories were horribly vivid; his burning throat, sore from all the cigarettes, how little he'd weighted and how absolutely miserable he'd felt. He didn't like to admit it—not even to himself—but that time had broken him in more ways than one. It had taken months before he'd crawled back to his old self.

"You and Derek pulled me through. But I guess it wasn't enough. I was confused, angry—I left Dalton in a whim. Sometimes I regret it, but mostly... I was just really glad I was gone. It was sort of freeing to start something new, to have a new beginning, you know?"

Logan smirked. "Believe me, I know."

Julian looked at him strangely, opening his mouth to ask that obvious question—when his phone rang. Disgruntled, he picked it up and glanced at the caller-ID. Without answering, he pressed the button to shut it off. He stood up with obvious reluctance, and nodded slowly.

"You're hired. Someone will send you the schedule. Don't be late when you're on duty," Julian hesitated for only a brief second, before his burning gaze focused on Logan. "We _will_ talk more about this." With that, the brunet turned around resolutely.

A bit bewildered with the sudden departing, Logan didn't even form a scathing reply to the commanding tone of the actor.

And only when Julian Larson had walked out of the room, Logan remembered they'd been alone all this time and that it had been the perfect moment to finish this godforsaken mission.

* * *

><p>This job was one of the most confusing, one of the most difficult, one of the most <em>confronting<em> Logan had _ever_ been put on.

He hated it with passion.

Days went by—days that turned into weeks way too fast, and Logan Wright still hadn't made a move.

He had good excuses, though. First of all, the actor was always surrounded by people—wherever he went, whatever he did, there were _always_ people following him. The only privacy Julian Larson had was in the bathroom, but Logan felt little to off him there.

He carried his gun with him non-stop, had even checked out a few places where Larson went the most, where Logan had the best chance to shoot and disappear without a trace. He'd strolled through every environment of every place the actor was often—Carmen's house, his own apartment, Derek's apartment.

But nothing was good enough, there was not one place where he had a good shot, not one place he felt confident enough to carry out the job.

And the longer he waited, the more he came to know about the actor—all those little facts seeped into his mind, despite his efforts he took to forget them all as soon as possible.

The devotion to his fans, the passion in his work, the hate towards his bodyguards, the deep trust he had in Derek, the hate-love-relationship with Carmen... his total lack of girlfriends.

But then Logan was with Julian for three weeks and where they'd at first been ignoring each other and staring stoically at the walls—they started talking now.

And everything got a _lot_ worse.

There was a reason why Logan Wright didn't make contact with his targets. It was so much more difficult to finish his job, to kill them, to eliminate them as cold-bloodedly as he was supposed to.

And Julian Larson may came off as the biggest diva on the planet—a bitch at times, but also an insufferable _princess_—there were a few times where he'd show more than just that.

And—like the first time Logan had seen him showing emotion—the tall blond was mesmerized beyond notion. It also made him hurry his pace—because the faster this would be over, the better for everyone.

* * *

><p>Pacing around his little apartment, Adam Clavell started to get very impatient very quickly. Weeks had gone by and nothing had happened yet. Usually, Wright would've finished this in a few days time. He was the best there was. The best Clavell could've found in his immediate surroundings.<p>

His last fucking hope to revenge.

Eyes glinting furiously, he growled a stream of profanities, stopping in front of his window and looking out to the swiftly darkening sky.

Was it time to take matters into his own hands?

Or would he offer Wright one more chance?

Shaking his head, he grabbed the gun from his nightstand, inspecting it carefully. His patience with the blond sniper had always been wearing thin, but recently every last bit of foundation it was still standing on had been crumbling off slowly.

And Clavell was absolutely done with it.

* * *

><p>There was one particular time where Julian had talked to Logan openly, so completely unexpected that it had taken the sniper by surprise. The actor had been showing emotions again, making Logan impatient again to finish this damn job.<p>

Logan had been on bodyguard-duty—protecting someone he would've loved to see _un_protected—when Julian Larson had been talking to some fans outside his apartment. Logan stood there with three other bodyguards watching quietly from a distance.

One of the fans—all of them girls—handed the actor a bunch of roses and Julian took them gracefully, smiling as he smelled them, brown eyes lightening up when his fans giggled and visibly swooned.

But when the fans had left—reluctantly stumbled away from their idol after they'd been impatiently waved off by one of the bodyguards—Julian turned around, stalked to the trashcan and threw the roses between its stinking contents.

Logan raised his eyebrows in question, but despite his silence, Julian seemed to notice as he rolled his eyes with an impatient huff. The brunet turned to the other three bodyguards—men whose names slipped Logan's mind—and convinced them to leave, telling them he needed to have a moment. That he'd be safe enough with one bodyguard, that he'd be safe enough with just Logan Wright.

Green eyes widened at the horrible mistrust, fingers curling around a cold gun, tightening, loosening again when Logan realized sepia eyes were staring right at his startled green ones.

Julian clacked his tongue, taking the surprised silence for something else entirely.

"I just don't like roses. No need to look at me like that."

The blond shook his head, quickly recovered himself and snorted—leaning back against the wall of the building just as Julian sat down on the front-steps. "I can see that. Why did you send those bodyguards away?"

Julian looked over his shoulder carelessly and shrugged. "Why wouldn't I?" he scraped his nails through the sand. "Derek was right, you know—that day when he introduced you to me. I feel better around people I trust."

"And you trust _me_?" Logan's voice was drowning in sarcasm, but the actor didn't seem to notice, he was that lost in his own world. So Logan decided to turn back on the subject of roses—it was at least easy.

"So why don't you like roses again?" Logan shifted his stance a bit, letting his usual dry sarcasm seep through his words again. "I thought every actor liked them—you know, romantic, sensitive creatures that you are."

He received a flaming brown-eyed stare and an aggravated snarl. "I don't like them, because they bring up certain things."

"Things like memories?"

"Things that are none of your fucking business."

Logan trailed his fingers over his gun, turning his eyes to the sky and smiling softly to himself. "Always the dramatics," he murmured. "I'd still like to hear the story."

Julian scowled, picking up a twig and playing with it absently. "It's a long one and I don't want to talk about it. Especially not with you."

Letting that last comment slide, Logan leaned forward, piercing eyes focused on the smaller brunet sitting next to him. "Seriously though—roses are the 'sign of love', aren't they? Why hate them?"

The actor turned at him with an unfathomable expression. "Maybe I don't like love either," he sneered, eyes narrowed in irritation.

Logan raised his eyebrows, falling back against the wall. "Yeah—_that_ isn't bitter at all," he gazed down at him from his peripheral vision. "What the hell happened to you, Larson?"

Julian downcast his eyes, his expression darkening.

_You happened to me. And a crazy fanboy-stalker._ His brown eyes looked up again, studying the green ones that stared so intensely back at him.

_But mostly you. _"Nothing important, Wright."

Logan frowned at the sudden weariness in the actor's voice and he crouched down to his level. "I don't believe that. Talk to me." The fact that he just said that—the fact that he _cared_—should've surprised him, but it went so matter-of-factly, so easily, he barely spent a second thought to it.

"It's nothing—let it go."

"Larson, I bet Derek knows. He'll tell me if I ask—you know he will."

"He _won't_. Don't even _dare_ to go ask him anything. And why the sudden interest anyway?"

Shrugging casually, Logan stole the twig from Julian's fingers and twirled it around his own. "Well—_apparently_—you were a friend of mine. And we were pretty close if I should believe you two. So... it's kind of in my job-description to be interested in you, right?" his lips twitched as his stomach churned at the double meaning in that last statement, but he looked up anyway, expression only half-joking.

Julian gave him a tired smile. "Logan—you were _never_ interested. And certainly not in me. So don't think I'm expecting it now."

The twig in Logan's fingers broke with a sharp snap when Julian unconsciously called him by his first name—but despite the uneasy feelings it caused, Logan let it slip.

Ignoring the exhaustion and the sadness that whirled through the air—feelings even _Logan_ could feel—the trained sniper rolled his eyes and gestured for the actor to continue. "Stop being so dramatic and just talk to me."

Brown eyes glared murderously when they met Logan's and Julian stood up abruptly. "Fuck Wright—just as tactful as ever, aren't you?"

"Oh, come on—"

Both on their feet now, the two man glared at each other—and while Logan's hand sneaked its way to the gun on his belt—the gun that could end it all—Julian spread his arms in frustration, not having the slightest idea in what kind of danger he was in right now.

"Fuck you, Wright," the actor spat, eyes blazing as they drilled into the blond's.

Unfazed, Logan merely raised an eyebrow. "As your bodyguard, shouldn't I know about stuff like this?"

Then something clicked in Julian's mind. His _bodyguard_. He was having private talk—sharing _personal_ stuff—with his bodyguard. A bodyguard he once shared almost everything with, a bodyguard he once shared classes with, a bodyguard he once had lo—

—but no. He wasn't going to walk that same hurtful road again.

Just a bodyguard. Logan Wright was just another bodyguard.

Sighing, Julian put his hands on Logan's shoulders, pushing him a bit backwards. "Listen, there's nothing you need to know. A few years ago there was some stupid stalker that... well... he was all kinds of crazy. But that happened a long time ago—nothing for my bodyguards to worry about, okay? So just... leave, okay?"

Logan raised his eyebrows, his fingers ticking against his weapon. "Shouldn't I be around to protect your precious soul? Since you chased away anyone else who has the ability to do so."

Julian's expression was on fire as he gave the 'bodyguard' a furious glare. "I can protect myself—thank you very much. And I'm on the front-steps of where I _live_, Wright—what the hell could happen here? I'm completely safe, okay? Just leave for today."

"Wasn't that Lillian-girl killed in her own home, though?"

The actor's gaze darkened and he shook his head. "That won't happen to me."

Logan smirked, nodding his head slowly as he turned around, his fingers leaving his gun reluctantly. _Not today. Not here. Too conspicuous. Another time_.

"Okay then."

_You have no idea in what kind of danger you are, Larson._

It was time to finally finish this damn thing and Logan had found the perfect place and time to do it.

* * *

><p>The curses and insults flew through the air, but the only thing they hit were the bare walls of the sober apartment, and the man who uttered them grew more frustrated and angrier with the hour.<p>

How _dared_ Wright to defy his commands that easily? How _dared_ Wright to take _so_ long over a job that wasn't _that_ difficult? He'd done bigger things than this! He'd done _better_ than this.

He should go out and do it himself, but Clavell was reluctant to actually perform the deed himself... after all—he'd already tried so many years ago... and _that_ didn't turn out very good.

And Clavell didn't want to blow his cover, only wanted to come out when it was absolutely necessary. So he picked up his phone and dialed that number he never wanted to dial.

* * *

><p>"<em>Clavell? What are you doing calling me?"<em>

"_I want to know how it's going, Wright—because you're taking awfully long."_

"_You never call. Are you doubting my abilities?"_

"_It's been two weeks, Wright—when are you going to finish the job?"_

"_I'm preparing for it. It's harder than it looks like—there's people _everywhere_."_

"_Make. It. Work."_

Logan closed one eye, peering through the visor of his sniper rifle as he slowly adapted the position of the standard he'd put it on. When he shifted his stance, his foot pushed against his duffle-bag and the sound it created betrayed the weaponry inside of it. Except for him and his weapons, the room was completely empty and deserted—even the paint that used to be on the walls had left, leaving depressingly bare, grey concrete behind.

There was a crack in one of the filthy windows and the trained assassinator pushed his sniper rifle exactly so the tip was touching the cold air. Opening his other eye, he stared at the apartment precisely opposite of this old, dying building.

He could just make out silhouettes in the last, fading light of the day. One looked exactly like the actor that he was going to shoot.

"_You're making it sound damned easy, Clavell—why don't _you_ do it?"_

"_Wright—watch your words. You know what I can do to you when you mess this up."_

"_I'm so fucking scared. But fine. I'll make it work. Somehow. I sure hope I won't get fucking shot by all those fucking bodyguards, though."_

"_If you won't do it, you'll get shot by _me_. Your choice, Wright."_

"_It's a fucking win-win-situation, isn't it?"_

It looked like the actor wasn't alone—and that was just _awesome_, because Logan really wanted to have other people around who could _react_ when he shot his target.

Growling a curse under his breath, he knelt down, feeling the cold of the hard concrete trickle through his jeans. He leaned forward, making sure the actor was exactly in his gunsight. If he'd miss, there would be hell to pay.

The other person in the room aggravated him though—especially because he couldn't see who it was. Julian Larson was talking to a fucking chair for all Logan knew. Raising his eyes to the ceiling and back again, he made himself up for a long wait.

"_How many bodyguards are there?"_

"_You mean in total, or surrounding him at one time? Because he always has at least five of those fuckheads around him."_

"_Only _five!_ You've taken out more than that and you know it!"_

"_It's different this time, Clavell."_

"_Why? Are you doubting your skills?"_

"_No! Of course not!"_

"_What the fuck are you waiting for then?"_

It was Derek he was talking to—arguing with, being angry at. But it turned out Derek wasn't the only one accompanying Julian in his living room—Logan could see the vague shadows of strongly built men in the corners of the room, guarding the doors, watching with sharp eyes. Shaking his head, he looked up in disbelief.

People were being ridiculously cautious with their precious Hollywood-treasure.

He aimed the sniper rifle nonetheless—adjusting the gunsight until it could follow the wildly gesturing actor clearly.

Logan's fingers trailed over the cold metal and with a resolute movement, he put the weapon against his shoulder, fingering the trigger, waiting for the exact right moment.

"_I'm waiting for the right time, goddamn it!"_

"_I think you've had tons of those, Wright!"_

"_Shut your damn—"_

"_I don't like your _tone_, Wright! Just DO IT. Finish the fucking job and you'll get paid and you'll _live_—how am I _not clear?_"_

"_I'll shut up when I fucking want to, Clavell! And you just wait in your chair, because the job _will_ get done."_

"_It better get done. For _your_ sake."_

"_It will."_

"_So end it."_

And there it was—the right moment, offering itself to a fully trained sniper without hesitation. Larson was walking away from Derek—arms flying out, face turned to the window, expression absolutely livid—and for the shortest moment he was all alone, without his bodyguards or anyone else to protect him.

"_End it now."_

Logan narrowed his eyes—and pulled the trigger.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading, you are all amazing, <em>amazing<em> people :) Leave me some love and maybe you want to check out my Tumblr: bourbonrose . tumblr . com**

***blows kisses***


	4. I Can Hear The Bells

**Hi everyone! :D So I hope I didn't make you wait _too_ long for this chapter, I'm just surprised it's finished already, I definitely hadn't expected that :P **

**If you like my writing, you should follow me on Tumblr: bourbonrose . tumblr . com I have a _lot_ of drabbles on there that I won't post on here :P**

****I own nothing except the plot. Obviously.****

I'll stop with rambling now and let you read this chapter. Enjoy, sweethearts :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: I Can Hear The Bells<strong>

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><p>The bullet cut silently through the air, slicing easily through the raindrops that had suddenly started to fall. The sky had been gray and dreary all day, but when the bullet found the window, crashed through it and did its damage—the clouds really broke open, releasing so much water it was almost like angels <em>did<em> exist and every one of them was crying heartbrokenly.

But maybe it _were_ the angels crying.

They had every reason to.

_But what if I _did_ know him?_ It was just a brief thought—barely in words, just in colors, like so many of our thoughts that are as invisible and insubstantial as sunbeams—but it was carving its way through Logan's heart and mind frantically.

_What if I did know him?_

_What if I did actually know him?_

_What if he'd been one of my best friends?_

A friend killing a friend...

The angels had every reason to cry.

And the drenching, soaking rain seemed fitting—like it was planned, like in a bad drama movie.

Rain positively poured from above, obscuring every sight and muffling every sound. Drops viciously rattled against the window and the frail walls of the old building where the sniper was hiding in—creating a loud racket that drilled through the silent air.

The drops that trailed over the window left clear tracks between the filth, and right through those tracks, wide green eyes were staring at the outside world—focused on one thing only.

The sniper rifle clattered to the floor when Logan's fingers grasped the window-ledge. He sat up and pressed his face against the glass, catching small drops from where the rain managed to seep through the cracks.

His pale lips were slightly parted, his chest heaving rapidly as his heart pounded uncomfortably loud against his ribs. Utter surprise and absolute shock colored his expression, and his eyes widened even more as he tried to peer through the heavy curtains of rain.

There was obvious chaos in the other room, even through the rain he could see the people running on and off, he could hear yells—angry, worried, frightened... pained.

_Pained_.

Blinking, he leaned back on his heels. Raking his hands through his hair, Logan closed his eyes for one small moment.

Of course there were pained yells. For a moment—just one small, tiny moment—he'd thought that he'd... but no... no, that was impossible. Logan Wright never missed. _Never_.

But he was certain...

He _knew_ yells—he'd hear them all too often—and _this_, this weren't the yells that sounded when somebody had been _shot_... But yet... It was impossible.

But when Logan wanted to pick up his weapon to leave this place, his eyes glided once more over the chaotic room full of running people—and his heart stopped. The sniper rifle clattered to the floor yet again and Logan rushed back to the window, his eyes as wide as saucers, a constant stream of profanities flooding from his mouth.

Impossible. _Impossible._

But there, standing in the middle of the room, Derek standing right next to him—was Julian Larson. His face was unreadable due to the ridiculously heavy rain, his expression invisible and his dark eyes merely beads from this distance—but it was _definitely_ the young actor.

Looking horribly, awfully, terribly _alive_.

"No..." Logan whispered furiously.

_No, no, no, no, NO!_

"You're _alive_? How the _fuck_ are you _alive_?" he muttered, anger and self-hatred bubbling to the surface. How could he have missed? How the _hell_ could he have missed?

But people were running out of the building, dashing over the streets, sharp eyes obviously looking for the culprit, even though they had little chance to find him in this heavy rain—and it was definitely time for Logan to leave.

How in the _world_ was he going to tell Clavell about this?

* * *

><p>The small apartment of Adam Clavell was dark, stuffy and stale. There was a horrible, decayed smell impregnating the air, whirling around sluggishly and disgustingly. The young man himself sat on an old chair, completely and utterly motionless. His posture was uptight and he was noticeably waiting for something... anything. Muted voices spoke from the television—the only object giving some light, the only object creating some sound, the only object seeming to be alive.<p>

He was a volcano about to erupt.

Outside he wore a mask of stillness—inside though, there was a boiling stream of feelings and thoughts that charged through his entire body, wild and ablaze and devastating as it was busy ruining his last shreds of concentration and patience.

It was almost pathetic how little control Clavell had over his own mind—but despite his efforts to try and hold them together, the thoughts and memories spilled irretrievably free from his iron claws, giving a full performance of the happiest and darkest months of his life.

And it had started out so hopeful. So _damn_ happy.

But everyone knew that happy things never stayed happy. Life was always in motion, always moving... like a creek forcing its way through the forest... just going through and through, never looking backwards, never caring if it ruined something.

And everyone knew that life always ruined things...

Always.

But at that time, Clavell didn't think it would. Not for _him_. He was invincible. The world was glorious—the man he loved, his very_ heart_ was glorious—and nothing could ever stop him.

Julian's face appeared in his mind, and despite Clavell's reluctance to watch the memories play out again, he allowed himself to relish in the perfect image. The actor's perfect face, with his perfect brown eyes—those beautiful eyes that always sparkled when they glanced his way—his perfect pink lips that pulled into that wicked smile that was meant for him and him alone...

"_Hi..." he breathed, beyond stunned as he gazed at the famous young actor. He handed Julian the poster, asking him silently for an autograph._

_Julian Larson looked up at him and smiled, brown eyes sparkling as they curiously took the boy in. "Hi there. What's your name?"_

"_Adam... Adam Clavell."_

"_Well, Adam..." Julian's tongue poked out from between his lips as he sighed the poster and it tore all kinds of feelings loose that Adam had tried to hide for way too long._

"_I love you," he blurted out and his eyes grew wide, his hands coming up to clutch the fabric over his chest in a vain attempt to calm his pounding heart. "I'm... I'm sorry—I..."_

"_No, that's okay," the actor smiled kindly—obviously used to declarations like this—and handed the stuttering fan the poster back. "To be honest—I'm kinda in love with all of my fans, too." And then he winked and Adam knew right then and there that they were meant to be together forever and ever and _ever.

But then... naturally... life had interfered. The creek had gurgled on and on, not looking back when Adam's heart stumbled off its path, drowning hopelessly in the wildly swirling waves.

Waking up from the nightmarish memories, Adam's eyes suddenly blazed with fire and the volcano erupted explosively as he clenched his phone tightly, waiting impatiently for that godforsaken call from that godforsaken stuck-up ass Wright.

_It better be done._

_It better be all done._

* * *

><p>Julian couldn't breathe.<p>

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't _breathe_.

The sound—that awful, horrible sound that he knew so well—of the gunshot burned in his ears, echoed through his head and danced around teasingly, making his head pound as rapidly as his heart.

He clutched his chest with his hand, tugging the clothes a bit further from his skin, as if that made breathing easier.

It didn't.

Julian closed his eyes in a vain attempt to get control over his body—but instead of the so much needed breath, horrible imagines dove in front of his closed eyelids, images that were memories he'd never wanted to see again, memories that had haunted him for years now.

Memories that were triggered by that cursed gunshot.

_Adam's eyes glinted harshly in the afternoon-sun as he tugged his gun from his jacket. He stroked over the barrel lovingly, a sugar-sweet smile across his pale lips. Julian looked around feverishly, searching for an escape, waiting for those godforsaken bodyguards to finally show up and save his ass._

_But there was nobody and they were all alone. Just like Adam had always wanted it._

_And Julian was a fool for only noticing now._

Derek was quick to kneel next to his best friend, his hands fluttering idly over his body, looking for wounds, looking for blood... but there wasn't any. It was just shock that had made the actor fall against the bookcase. Shock... and one of those idiot bodyguards that had pushed him over, while the bullet wasn't even nowhere near the brunet.

Julian blinked a couple of times, trying to control his breathing, trying to ignore everyone staring at him, trying to push away the dark threads of those horrid nightmares.

_Adam's voice was warm and sincere as he spoke, eyes widening to display his honesty. "I'll protect you, Julian. Forever."_

"_You're—you're _sick_, Adam—please, _please_ stay away from me..."_

_Although the smile stayed, his entire posture changed in a heartbeat. Brown eyes sparkled menacingly, fingers clenched around his gun protectively. But the smile stayed—it always, always... stayed. "What? How can you say that—I'll never walk away from you..."_

_It was the smile that haunted his dreams. Not the obsessive eyes, not the blood-curling words, not the gunshot... It was the smile—that god-awful, creepy, fake smile._

_The gunshot that followed rocked his world, and it took the actor a moment to orientate, to notice where it came from—not from Adam's weapon, not from the bodyguards that suddenly chose to appear... _

_When Adam fell, it was Derek that stood behind him—his breaths ragged and irregular, his shaking hands holding a smoking gun, his brown eyes wide with utter shock._

The same brown eyes that stared at him in worry now.

"Jules, Julian—are you alright? Please tell me you're alright—"

Julian pushed Derek's hands away. "I'm fine, D. I'm fine," he sat up, looking slightly flustered as he examined the room with a disbelieving expression. He noticed the cracked window and his heart fluttered uncomfortably when he saw the black dent in the wall where the bullet had penetrated through. He noted the lack of bodyguards and remembered most of them had run out in hopes to catch the shooter. Some of them were staring out of the window, but all of them had pulled their weapons.

"What the _fuck_ happened?"

"Somebody tried to shoot you," a bodyguard spoke up, quite absently as he peered through the window, and Julian glared at him murderously.

"Thank you. Really. Your observations astound me," he sneered, getting more frightened and more _frustrated_ with the second. "This is awesome, by the way. Someone who tries to shoot me. That's absolutely _great_, just what I nee—Derek, leave me alone, I'm _fine_," he interrupted himself when Derek's hands pressed on his body, examining him yet again.

Derek narrowed his eyes when he reluctantly pulled his hands away. "Somebody tried to _shoot_ you, Jules—you're _not_ fine. Stop saying you're fine when you're _not_."

Giving his friend a deadly glare, the actor stood up, still a little shakily. "Is everybody alright?" he asked, using all his acting skills to prevent his voice from trembling.

When everybody nodded, Julian sighed relieved. "Okay—you can all go then."

"_What_?" Derek bristled and he jumped up, eyes shooting fire. "Somebody tried to _kill _you—and you want to send away your _bodyguards?_ They're supposed to protect you, you _idiot_!"

"Yes—and they were _such _a fucking protection just now!" Julian snarled and each of the bodyguards shifted uneasily and looked down, obviously embarrassed. Derek couldn't exactly deny that and the actor waved all the people away. "Just go—all of you."

The bodyguards shuffled away—moping, unhappy with the circumstances—and after they'd all walked out the door, Julian exhaled loudly, falling back against the wall and sliding down to the ground. He looked sick.

Derek—the only one left in the room with him—went to sit next to him, not touching him, not talking to him, doing absolutely nothing. He just watched—feeling helpless and powerless—as Julian buried his face between his knees and tangled his fingers in his hair, his breaths rough and shallow.

_No, no, no, no. _

Derek closed his eyes and bit his lip—his heart and everything inside of him _not_ wanting to happen what was happening now.

_Not again._

He knew that neither of them would get any sleep tonight.

* * *

><p>The next morning brought even more rain, starting as dreary as the last day had ended. Derek had stayed with his friend the entire night, acting like such a mother-hen, that Julian—scared and drained as he was—had kicked him out early, so that he could have a few hours alone before all the chaos started anew.<p>

Julian tilted his head back—feeling tired, exhausted, empty—and let the steaming hot water fall over his face, sighing in relief as it managed to calm him down a bit.

He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was scared—beyond frightened that he would end up like Marcie, beyond frightened that he'd be killed too.

And when he thought about the headlines that would decorate the papers and magazines today...

He groaned, sliding down the bathroom-wall, pulling up his knees and hiding his face in his hands.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die _at all_. He wasn't in love with his life—but he didn't want to_ lose _it.

Pressing his brown eyes shut, a few tears leaked over his cheeks, immediately made invisible by the water of the shower.

He wished he could run. From all of it. Just walk away, all on his own, just go away from here, going somewhere safe and loving and warm and...

For the shortest moment a tall blond sprang into his thoughts, green eyes sparkling as pink lips pulled up into a warm smile...

But no.

No...

That would never happen.

Not now. Not after seven years. Not when Logan had forgotten about him. Not when Julian appeared to be a fucking _target_—who the _hell_ would want to be with him?

Having enough of the shower, he stepped out, shivering when the sudden cold air hit his bare skin. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it low around his hips as he walked out of the bathroom—steam engulfing his body, his wet hair hanging in front of his face and drops of water dripping languidly down his back...

Brown eyes looked up—their long, wet lashes throwing dark shadows over the actor's cheeks—and then Julian chocked in alarm, backed away as quickly as he could, and stifled a surprised scream as he spotted a _very_ familiar figure on the couch.

"_What the fuck are you doing here?_" he hissed, brown eyes like smoldering coals as they burned into the green ones that looked right back at him, shining with obvious mirth.

"Hi there, Larson," Logan stated with a sour smirk, his eyes raking over the half-naked brunet appreciatively.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Logan?"

Logan's eyes darkened at the use of his first name, but he chose not to speak up—it was no use anyway. Instead, he sat up and leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"I heard what happened yesterday. Care to tell me how you got out alive?" he asked, expression jokingly, insides twisting in anger and frustration. He was still extremely riled up about the fact that he fucking _missed_—god-fucking-_damn-it_—and his fingers dug into his jeans ferociously, but it all went unnoticed to Julian.

"Lucky, I guess," the actor mumbled and he looked away, completely missing the fierce gleam in Logan's bright green stare.

"I guess," Logan bit the inside of his cheek, his gaze wandering off to Julian's slender, naked waist.

_He obviously lied to me. How could I've forgotten about _this_? He looks freaking—_

Green eyes widened as he caught himself exactly on time and his blond hair flopped in his face as Logan shook his head, trying to force away those thoughts. He closed his eyes, but not without reluctance. "Could you _please_ go and change now? I don't talk to people when they're half-naked."

Julian raised his eyebrows and his mouth formed a tiny 'o'. His lips turned up into his signature Cheshire smirk and he tilted his head to the side playfully. "Do I distract you, Oh Tempestuous One?" he asked, eyes sparkling with amusement, his heart leaping with the old familiar desire.

Logan opened his eyes, trying his best to look tired and uninterested as he snorted derisively. "You think _you_ distract me?" he asked icily and Julian's smirk slowly faded. "Five-year-olds really don't appeal to me," he added, eyes and voice as sharp as razors, feeling intensely satisfied when genuine hurt showed in Julian's expressive eyes. _There you go, you asshole, for not dying when I wanted you to._

Pushing the hurt quickly to the side, deciding to deal with that later—which was okay, really, he used to do it all the time—Julian straightened his back and lifted his chin defiantly. He wanted to make a retort just as scathing and hurtful as Logan's, but he couldn't find the words and the willpower. Not now, not today, not after somebody had tried to kill him.

"I can't help it that you're tasteless, _Majesty_," he merely said, voice only half as sharp and sarcastic as it should've been. Julian turned around and stalked away—hurt, humiliated and his hopes of getting Logan's feelings returned yet again devastated.

The door slammed shut loudly behind him.

* * *

><p>Logan felt a small pang of remorse as he watched Julian walk away, unconsciously shifting on the couch so he could watch his bare back until the very last moment—with all that sleek, tanned skin and all those smoothly rippling muscles and those water drops sliding from them all the way down and down and down—but the remorse was small and short-lived, and a second later he didn't even think about it anymore.<p>

Deciding that if he was going to spend even more time here, he could just as well go on a little scavenger-hunt. Logan stood up—his hand always on his gun in an undying habit—and looked around, completely at ease in this foreign room.

He started investigating the baskets near the couch, snickering when he noticed every magazine that had Julian Larson on the front-page was lying _next_ to the baskets, in the garbage-can. _Where they belong_, he thought, smirking as he laid the magazines back.

The closets were next and he was having a freaking fieldtrip sorting through all the shoes and suits and coats that were hanging there. There were no casual clothes, so the blond figured that they must be in the actor's bedroom. He wondered what _that_ place looked like... but didn't pay much attention to that fleeting—but strangely appealing—thought.

He strayed to the kitchen, opening closets and counters, finding not much food, lots of alcoholic beverages and—to his surprise—a lot of baking stuff. But it wasn't until he opened the top-counter that he discovered the _true_ treasure this room held.

Logan's eyes widened and he grabbed the glass box very carefully, bringing it closer to his already perfect eyesight to make absolutely sure he wasn't mistaken.

Lollipops.

It were _lollipops_...?

Well. That was... strange...?

Chuckling softly, he raked his long fingers through the candy. All were red—most of them cherry, some of them strawberry, blueberry, raspberry... So the diva had a kink for lollipops, huh?

And then suddenly images of Julian Larson—the famous actor, the precious Hollywood-treasure, the insufferable diva—sucking on one of those lollipops surfaced in his mind and he raised his eyebrows at the scene they displayed.

Glancing down at the lollipops with an entirely refreshed opinion, he didn't see it when Julian—clad in grey sweatpants and a simple black shirt that clung tightly to his body—walked into the kitchen, leaning against the counter casually.

"What the hell are you doing?" he suddenly asked, his hollow voice breaking Logan's spell, making him look up in surprise. "Are you really expecting me to think _you're_ not the five-year-old with the way you're eye-fucking the fucking candy?"

Logan narrowed his eyes and pulled his hand out of the mountain of lollipops. "You're the one having this stuff in your kitchen, Larson. Why do you have lollipops in your kitchen?"

Julian crossed his arms and took the blond in with calculating eyes. "Obviously I eat them."

Logan snorted. "Thank you, Captain Obvious, I hadn't thought of that."

"You're such an ass, Logan. I just eat them when I don't feel good."

Raising his eyebrows, Logan offered him the box with lollipops mockingly. "Somebody just tried to kill you—" _and hopelessly, miserably failed at that_ "—I think you can use some lollipops, hm?"

Julian narrowed his eyes, his gaze traveling from his beloved candy to Logan's amused expression. "Fuck you, Logan. I feel perfectly fine. I _will_ be perfectly fine."

"Sure you will," Logan said, pulling the candy back. But the box hit his gun by accident and it created a profound _cling_ that rang through the room.

Brown eyes focused on the weapon immediately and the actor huffed impatiently, brushing his dark hair out of his face before he pointed to the gun. "I know you're a bodyguard and all, but if that thing fires off accidentally—"

Logan rolled his eyes, a surge of amusement rippling through his body. "Yeah, like I'd let it go off accidentally. Don't worry, Princess—"

The actor raised his eyebrows hearing the god-awful nickname and he narrowed his eyes in anger and aggravation.

"—this thing won't fire unless I want to."

"Right. I've seen older and more experienced men accidentally pull the trigger of their stupid gun."

"I'm better."

Julian chuckled sarcastically. "Right. Sure you are."

"I am."

"Fine. Whatever. Just don't let anybody get hurt. Especially not me," he muttered as in an afterthought, eyeing the weapon suspiciously.

And that last statement harbored so much irony, that Logan—despite all the tension, the frustration and the feelings of being an absolute failure—burst out in peals of laughter and he laughed until his stomach hurt, until even Julian's lips twitched upwards a little—and the sniper realized that this was the first time in _years_ he'd laughed like this. And staring in Julian's eyes—those haunting, sincere brown eyes that never seemed to let him go—he couldn't imagine a single better feeling.

But then a thought entered his mind that left the sniper gasping for breath, a thought that made tiny, little, ice-cold fists squeeze his heart violently and they kept squeezing until he couldn't feel anything anymore and he stopped laughing abruptly.

Because Logan had told Clavell he would call after the damn job and a whole night further he still hadn't called and now Clavell was going to find out through the news and the screaming headlines of the newspapers.

Julian looked up in surprise when Logan suddenly stopped laughing and shut his eyes as if he was in pain.

"_Fuck_."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Your thoughts are more than welcome :)<strong>

**(Next chapter will explain the history Adam and Julian share.)**

**See you next time :) *blows kisses***


	5. Sweet Memories Of Mine

**Hello again :) I had to split this chapter up in two parts, because with all the memories of Adam and Julian, it just became too long :P So in this chapter we'll find out why Julian left Dalton and in the next we'll find out what happened between Adam and Julian :) Of course, the present is very busy and chaotic too ;)**

**Disclaimers: I do no own these characters, the lovely CP Coulter does.**

**I hope you enjoy, sweethearts :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Sweet Memories Of Mine<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

**.**

Logan was standing in the bathroom, forehead resting against the cold tiles in a vain attempt to cool down the current fire smoldering deep inside him. One hand was curled into a tight fist, planted firmly against the wall right next to his head—the other was clutching his phone, fingers nearly crushing the fragile technology as he listened with a livid expression to the menacing voice that was wailing in his ear.

"If you would just _listen_, Clavell—" he tried, _again_ trying to explain things, but the man on the other line wouldn't have any of it and yelled right through his sentence—his words crackling with a scorching-hot fury.

"_No_, Wright! _You_ listen! People talked about you, you know? They _recommended_ you for fuck's sake, told me you are _good_ at what you do, that you _always_ finish the fucking job! And _now you didn't_! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"It rai—"

"If you're going to fucking tell me you missed the shot because it _rained_—I'm going to rip you to pieces so very slowly, you're going to scream your fucking lungs out before you die of blood loss and a _pain_ so fucking _excruciating_ you wish you were never _born_—I swear to fucking _god_!" Clavell had used all of his breath on that raging threat and Logan immediately took the opportunity to speak his own mind.

"Look—I'm going to kill him even if it's the last thing I'll do—"

"—you can fucking bet on _that_—"

"—but you have to give me some _time_, damn it. He trusts me now—I'm in his _house_, he's in the room right _next_ to me—" and then Logan cursed and closed his eyes briefly, lowering the volume of his voice when he realized Julian was in the room _right next to him_.

For a long moment, only the heavy breathing of a still utterly furious Clavell was heard through the phone and Logan had to control himself not to hold it away from his head, feeling like Clavell's filthy breath blew right into his ear.

"_Fine_," Clavell whispered sharply—and for some reason, the calm whispering sounded way more menacing and way more terrifying than the loud racket of just moments ago, sending icy shivers all over Logan's body.

"_Fine_," Clavell repeated and the young sniper could imagine how the man closed his eyes in aggravation, the fingers of his free hand pressed against his temple, while the fingers of his other hand clenched and unclenched around the phone. "I'll give you some _time_, goddamn it. But if it's not finished by then, if Larson is not _dead_ by then, I'm going to come over and kill him myself. You'd better watch your fucking ass if that happens, Wright, because I'll kill you too," he added, almost in an afterthought.

And Logan wanted to make a scathing retort, mocking him, challenging him—because who the hell was going to shoot _him_? Who the hell would shoot _Logan Wright_? Certainly not Clavell. But something about the man's voice sounded so deep and so obsessively intense and so terrifying, that Logan refrained from mocking him, keeping his mouth shut for just this once.

"You'd _better_ kill him."

And with that, the line disconnected and Logan was left with a growing feeling of unease and all kinds of thoughts whirling and running around in his head in chaos.

He would have to kill the actor soon. But instead of the usual adrenaline that accompanied those kind of thoughts... he noticed with surprise that he felt unsure of what to do now. Muttering a stream of profanities, he raked a hand through his hair and glanced in the mirror just briefly—noticing his eyes were bright and angry—before he left the bathroom.

When he walked back into the living room, Julian looked up at him from the couch where he sat on—brown eyes huge and warm, his pink lips pulling up into a relieved smile.

"Oh good, I thought you were gone," he sighed, and for a moment Logan could see the fear—the fear _he_'d caused—brimming behind his casual exterior. He was still afraid since the shooting—the _attempt_ at shooting—and even though the actor tried to mask it carefully, the sniper could see right through the act.

The blond muttered a greeting as he plopped on a chair, feeling tired and angry and frustrated. He looked at the actor, mildly curious. "Would it be that bad if I were gone?"

Julian rolled his eyes. "Well, you're the only one with a gun here, and since someone clearly wants me _dead_..." his usual sarcasm seemed to be gone, having drowned in the shock of almost being killed, "...you're kind of the only option at safety I have now."

Logan stared at him disbelievingly and he had to do his very best not to snort at that statement. _Well, that kind of sucks for you then, Larson._

"You have other bodyguards, you know," the blond muttered and despite his efforts to push it away, he remembered the conversation he just had with Clavell—the angry words, the threats... the commands.

Julian huffed and crossed his arms, looking at the blond sternly. "They suck."

Logan snorted derisively. "And I don't?"

"You suck less," Julian noted with a smirk, cocking an eyebrow challengingly. "And what's the matter with you anyway? You look like you've seen a ghost."

_My own if I don't fucking watch out_. "Don't worry your pretty, little head over it, diva."

"Stop it."

"Stop what, diva?"

Julian narrowed his eyes, but pressed his lips in a thin line as he looked away.

"What? No witty comeback? Now, _that _is new," Logan grinned, but his heart dropped when he received a vicious glare, razor-sharp with hatred. He sighed, gazing around the room for a second. "Where's Derek anyway?"

The hate and anger disappeared like snow in the sun—for a second Logan wondered if Julian didn't have the same thing he had, with all these mood-swings of his—and Julian gave him a blank look. "Probably having sex somewhere. He just sent me a text."

Logan snickered. "Yeah... I remember that."

Suddenly, the actor perked up, his eyes widening as he leaned forward on the couch. "Are you starting to remember things?"

"What? No—I just remember Derek, I told you that."

"Oh."

Logan studied Julian's crestfallen expression for a while before he sighed and closed his eyes in aggravation. "Okay, you know what? I can't believe I'm saying this—but talk to me, I need a distraction."

"How much I'd like to be your source of entertainment—why would I do that?"

_Because you don't want to be killed _now. "Because I need the distraction."

Julian considered him for a moment, wondering what was going on in Logan's head, wondering what made him look this unusually drained. The actor sighed, leaned back and—completely uncharacteristically—gave in without any fighting. "What do you want me to talk about, Your Majesty?"

Green eyes snapped open in irritation. "_Obviously, _you should tell me about our time as 'friends'."

Julian's eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise. "Do you—do you think that might help? With your memory, I mean?"

Logan shook his head and leaned back in his seat. "No, not really. But I know you want to talk about it, so just talk, okay?" And—if he was being completely honest with himself—he was slightly curious to hear all the memories he'd so obviously forgotten about. Memories that weren't his anymore.

"You're sure?"

Julian stared at him for a moment and Logan stared back, noticing how the actor's eyes were like deer's with that expression, the sun from outside reflected in them and making them deep and mysterious. A dark strand of hair had fallen over Julian's forehead and with every breath, it swayed softly, looking as smooth as velvet and clouds.

But why was he thinking this? He shouldn't be thinking this. He remembered that he had conveniently forgotten to take his medication this morning and proceeded to blame all these thoughts and this whole freaking mess on that.

"_But if it's not finished by then, if Larson is not dead by then, I'm going to come over and kill him myself. You'd better watch your fucking ass if that happens, Wright, because I'll kill you too."_

"Just fucking talk to me, Larson."

"...okay. You remember that movie—"

"I _don't_ fucking _remember_ anything—how many times do I have to make myself clear?"

"I didn't mean it like that! I just wondered if you remembered that movie from years ago, it was called "Broken" and I starred in it as this character who was destroying himself—"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh. Well, anyway, that was where it all started, I guess."

* * *

><p><strong>Past<strong>

**.**

He was exhausted. Beyond exhausted.

Every movement pained him, tearing on his muscles and tendons with the weight of elephants and the strength of tigers. Every time he blinked, it cost him more effort to open his eyes again. He didn't walk, he merely dragged himself forward, feet never losing contact with the floor as he couldn't even lift them up properly. Every breath was agony—the feeling of razors rasping through his throat every time again, producing an excruciating pain he couldn't escape from... the smell of cigarettes hung around him, making him crave... making him almost cave again...

The broken actor managed to slid through the doors of the common room and after that, he didn't really care what happened to him. He remembered practically falling into Derek and Logan's arms, he remembered them chastening him, worrying deeply about him, dragging him forcefully yet tenderly up the stairs.

"Jules..."

"_Jules_—"

Logan and Derek both gasped in stunned horror when they helped Julian change, their hearts dropping and their stomachs clenching in shared pain when they saw how unbelievably thin and skeletal Julian had gotten—his ribs and hipbones sticking out like sharp mountains above a deep, dead valley.

Dead...

He looked like a dead man walking.

The two friends shared a frightened and terrorized look—both of their expressions drenched in horror and incredibility and absolute, utter fear for their best friend.

Because how much as an insufferable diva and primadonna Julian could be—he was still _Jules_. He was still _their_ Jules. And, like a group of fierce and highly protective lions, both the athlete and the singer weren't going to let Julian slip through their fingers—ready to extend their vicious claws if someone or something would threaten him.

The trio had an unspoken agreement; whenever one of them slipped, whenever one of them fell off the road; the other two would always—_always_—be right there to catch him and push him back on. Whatever he might have done, whatever might have happened—they would always be there for each other.

They gently laid the drained actor in his bed, draping the sheets over him, careful not to jostle him. Julian shifted and frowned, mumbling something unintelligible, but before either Logan or Derek could ask, he'd passed out—breaths raspy and irregular as he finally slept.

"Damn it," Derek hissed, kicking the carpet in frustration.

"You smelled smoke too, right? I wasn't imagining it?" Logan asked, wide eyes never leaving the sleeping actor—posture way too vague and thin in the dimmed lights.

Derek rubbed his face, tangling his fingers in his hair. "Man, this is so messed up—_he_ is so messed up. Who _does_ that to his own body? Who the _hell_ does that?" but looking at the brunet and back at the tall blond, he had a vague feeling that he _did_ know what it was about.

Time never stood still and, like a spider weaving her web, everything got more complicated and vulnerable as the days crawled by.

Julian didn't get better.

In fact, he just got sicker and sicker. And when his fever had risen to precarious temperatures and he was shivering and hallucinating in his bed, Logan and Derek finally decided to bring him to a hospital.

He was so sick, they didn't even have to wait by the ER. The nurses urged the actor to lay on a bed and rolled him immediately to a ward. He got hooked on an IV and the nurses carefully inserted a feeding tube so they could make him gain some desperately needed weight.

The days blurred into one, forming some sort of time-line that stretched on for weeks. Paparazzi came, got sent away, came again—more persistent and with even more questions—but were sent away again under the severe glares of the nurses. Derek and Logan were the only ones allowed to visit—the only exception being Julian's parents, who both had so little time to spare, it seemed like they were never here anyway.

The two friends watched as the actor gained weight, got some color on his cheeks, struggled with and finally conquered his addiction to cigarettes... and eventually they witnessed his first sarcastic remark in _weeks_—_"I'm dying and you're chasing after guys, I feel so fucking honored"_ when Logan came into the room one day, carrying a love-sick expression—and when the first sparkle appeared in his bright brown eyes and his lips quirked up in that Cheshire smile of his... Derek and Logan could finally breathe again.

He was going to be okay.

At least physically.

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

**.**

"What happened?"

"I just _told_ you, idiot."

"I meant, why did you _leave_, you moron," Logan sneered, hand involuntarily moving towards the ever-present gun on his belt.

Julian glared at him—brown eyes slowly softening in resignation when he realized Logan still didn't remember anything—and he smiled sadly.

"I went back to school. But... things had changed, I guess, and I was just done with it, _so_ done..." _done with schoolwork, done with all the gossip, done with _you_ pining over stupid guys that weren't me, done with looking at you and only feeling hurt and, and..._ "I left."

"That's it? You just left?"

"I left. But you don't remember, do you?"_ Or care. You don't care either._

Logan sighed in annoyance. "No, I _don't_. But..." Logan's eyes narrowed in thought and his fingers stroked over the smooth leather of the chair he sat in. "I don't understand. You went back to filming? While you got so sick of it?"

"At the time, everything seemed better than school," Julian mumbled, words dripping from emotions that went years and years back. "But... you really don't remember it?"

_Memories, memories, memories—all this fucking chatter about those stupid memories I won't ever have again._

And this time around, Logan finally had enough.

Anger boiling up dangerously, he clenched his jaw. "Why does everything has to go about my memory_?_ I _don't_ remember you, okay? Now—stop _bugging _me about it!"

Julian huffed, glaring at him vehemently. "It's just—"

"_No_, Larson, _no_. It's not _just_. It's _you_. It's all about _you_. You may be a famous celebrity, and you may have fans all over the world—but that doesn't mean _everyone_ should know you, that doesn't mean _everyone_ who's ever had contact with you should_ remember _you. Because _I _don't and I'm starting to think I know _why _I don't."

The actor raised his chin defiantly, cocking one eyebrow as he asked, "Why not?"

"Because you're just not worth remembering," Logan stormed, eyes a raging green fire, hands curled into tight fists.

Julian pressed his lips together and nodded stiffly.

"I'm so glad I left all those years ago," he hissed, trying to hold his voice steady and his eyes dry. "I am _so glad _you weren't in my life for all those years, so glad that I'm not friends with you anymore. All you ever did was destroy, Logan—do you remember _that_? All the pretty things you destroyed and hurt?" He stood up from the couch in one, fluid movement. "Because _I_ do."

He tore his eyes from Logan's and stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut with a deafening smash.

It wasn't until he was in the kitchen, alone and safe, that Julian—Julian Larson, Hollywood star, unbreakable, untouchable, unmovable Julian Larson—let the first tears fall, staring absentmindedly out of the window.

It was all coming back. Everything he ran for in the first place—it was all coming back.

And he hated it.

Hated it, hated it, hated it, _hated_ it.

* * *

><p><strong>Past<strong>

**.**

The hospital discharged him and he went back to school immediately—only to find out that nothing had changed _at all_. Logan had found a new guy to drool over and Julian saw how his eyes widened and sparkled and went all gorgeous and starry whenever they were together. Julian noticed how much happier the blond got, how his entire demeanor changed—the way he got more talkative, the way his gestures spoke of excitement and enthusiasm... something he barely showed to Julian, or even to Derek.

The actor saw everything, yet he wasn't seen.

Maybe that was why he wanted to go back to filming—it was the completely opposite on there, at least he was _seen_ on there... even if it wasn't by the person he wanted to be seen.

It took him exactly a month—only weeks before the school year ended—when he finally had enough. His heart had collected cracks again—cracks that had just _healed_, goddamn it—and he was scared that if he'd stay here, they might break all the way through one day. So he decided to leave.

Only Derek knew—maybe the twins, but if they did, they kept their mouths nicely shut—and he helped the actor pack, throwing all the protests and the reasons he should _stay for fuck's sake_ at him, the sincere words slicing through Julian's heart and soul like bullets from a gun.

He had planned his escape carefully, days in advance, and when the day came he would finally leave—he snuck out deep in the night. But before he stepped through the doors of Dalton for the very last time—and that thought hurt more than he'd imagined, making him almost drop his bags and run back with his tail between his legs—he made a tiny detour.

Without hesitating—without allowing himself to have any _time_ to hesitate—he opened the door to Logan's room and slipped in. But then... he hesitated, and he _almost_ turned around to flee the scene—when Logan made a muffled sound in his sleep, freezing Julian right on his place.

The moon spied on the two boys in the room, her beams sneaking through the gap between the curtains, falling on the blond hair that was splayed out over the pillow and turning it into a shiny, silky silver. Brown eyes followed the beam—the light mirrored in their dark depths, making them liquid and bottomless—and finally rested on that face he could never ever have.

He looked absolutely gorgeous.

Horribly, terribly, _awfully_... gorgeous.

And Julian just wanted to strangle those fucking feelings that violently ripped and tore at his heart, yanking on those ever-existing cracks, willing them to breach completely.

Without making a sound, Julian tiptoed forward and kneeled next to the bed, soaking in Logan's face like it was the last time he'd ever see him again. It probably was, though.

Opposed to the devil he was when awake, Logan was more like an angel now he was asleep. His face was completely relaxed, pink lips slightly parted, eyes closed gently—the bright, vivid green hidden from the world. He was curled up under the sheets, only his head and hands popping out, and his hands—hands that had so much strength in them, that could destroy and hurt and break—those same hands looked like they could be tender and friendly and soft...

Brown eyes closed as a warm breath ghosted over pale cheeks—and Julian wished he could stay here forever, he wished he'd never had to leave this place, he wished he'd never had to leave this glorious, peaceful moment.

Happiness never lasts.

Eventually the breath became too hot and the moonbeams too blindingly bright, chasing away the shadows of dreams and beckoning the mean venom of reality—because Julian would _never_ have _this_—and he opened his eyes reluctantly, the brown shining angrily with unshed tears. He gazed at Logan for a few seconds more, fully aware of the fact that if he would leave _now_, he'd always have that voice in the back of his mind chanting and dancing and singing mockingly: _But what if you hadn't left? What if you'd stayed?_ _A few days... maybe that was all he needed to notice you. Just a few more days... But you ruined all your chances._

But those thoughts had been running rampant in his mind long enough and he was just done with them, he was done with the vain hope. Tired, exhausted, drained...just _done_.

He turned around resolutely, his eyes the last part of him that left the sleeping angel.

He never looked back.

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

**.**

The doors opened with a horrible squeaking sound, but Adam Clavell didn't twitch a muscle as he stared at his impressive arsenal. The hard metal of the various weapons caught the beaming light of the sun and it reflected back right into his eyes. But Clavell was so occupied with his thoughts and his feelings of utter fury, desperation and hate—he didn't even squint.

A steady flood of silent curses flowing from his mouth, he yanked a bag from a shelf and proceeded to stuff as many weapons in it as he could possibly carry.

He'd never meant to actually give Wright a second chance—he knew this from the beginning; if Wright somehow messed it up, he would be dead. One way or another. His promises of 'more time' had been complete bullshit. He'd known all along that Wright would be dead by the end of the mission. Hell—_everyone_ would be dead by the end of this by god-forsaken mission.

Julian Larson. Logan Wright.

...himself.

And it was time he took matters into his own hands.

He was going to _end_ this.

He was going to end this _today_.

And while he packed—the metal guns colliding and creating harsh, rattling, thundering sounds that echoed through the empty room—he had to fight to keep tears from escaping his eyes.

It was just so unfair. Everything was _so_ unfair.

He remembered it all. How he'd lived his hopes and dreams and how stunned and happy he'd been that they had actually come true. How he'd been so happy he hadn't been able to think straight and how he'd enjoyed it with a passion he hadn't known he'd possessed—his heart always light and jittery, his stomach filled with fluttering butterflies, giving him a full feeling that was warm and giddy and _love_.

But dreams were there to be crushed.

And his had been destroyed to the very core.

The first tear splattered onto the floor, but Clavell didn't care, didn't even seem to notice. He'd felt empty ever since that dreadful day and there was no change in his emotions now... so why pay attention to that one tear, when there had been so many more...?

He zipped the bag shut, his movements fast and ferocious and desperate. His eyes glinted with an anger that suited hellfire and he turned around swiftly, stalking to the door and forcefully pulling it open.

He was going to end this.

The door slammed shut behind him and his loud, furious footsteps were heard through the entire building as he stomped his way out, eyes and heart fixed on one goal and one goal only.

He was going to end this _today_.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it :) Please leave some reviews behind, they really motivate me to write faster and they also kind of reassure me (I still feel horrible with this multi-chaptered things :P), so I'd <em>really<em> appreciate to hear your thoughts :)**

**See you the next time *blows kisses***

**- Rose**


	6. Before The Worst

**Hiya there :D My apologies for the slight delay... my goal is to update at least every week, but I've been so busy with exams and stuff, so I couldn't really find a lot of time to write :/ But anyways, here it is :)**

**Oh, before I forget: I'm going to write some outtakes for this story, and I'll post them on my Tumblr-account (bourbonrose . tumblr . com) And if you see something in a chapter and you want to know more about it, you can message me and I'll write it out as an outtake.**

**Just so you know, I had to split this chapter up **_**again**_**, because I'm too wordy for my own good. So in the next chapter I'll wrap up the story of Julian and Adam :)**

**This chapter is dedicated to Chylan, the wonderful person who came up with the prompt, and what I just found out a couple of days ago XD But thank you darling, you're amazing :) You should all follow her: chylan . tumblr . com She's brilliant :)**

**Of course, none of it is mine :P The characters belong to the amazing CP Coulter and her fic Dalton.**

**But I'll stop talking now, and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: Before The Worst<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

**.**

"_You thought I was having SEX?"_

Julian winced at Derek's highly indignant yell and he replaced the phone to his other ear, sighing as he stared out of the kitchen window. "D, I thought—"

"You thought I was having _sex_? While you were _almost killed?_ What the hell do you think of me, Julian!"

Julian could imagine his incredulous expression and how he would gesture wildly, almost like he wanted to push his own thoughts through the air, right into the actor's head. Nevertheless, his heart warmed hearing that Derek—in fact—did _not_ have sex while there was a crazy shooter on the loose. But still...

"I just—you sent me a text! Why would you sent me a t—"

"Saying I was with two ladies, yes! _Carmen and your mom!_ Jesus Christ!"

Julian's eyes widened and he grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter with one hand, his teeth crashing together when his breath escaped him in an oddly cat-like hiss. "What did you do?"

"What the _fuck_ do you think I was doing? Cleaning up your mess, of course! Seriously Jules, sometimes I feel like I'm your fucking babysitter or something."

"_What did you say to them?_"

"They were worried sick about you, idiot! It's all over the tabloids—you almost being _shot_, how the freaking asshole is still wandering somewhere, searching for another opportunity. Some magazines even say you _were_ killed! And guess which one your mom read first."

"Oh_ shit_."

"Yeah—I'd say!" Derek exhaled sharply as he tried to calm himself. "But it's kind of okay now, I guess. I went to both your parents and explained things, then Carmen called me, because you didn't pick up your phone, and I explained things to her. And now everyone's still freaking worried and you should_ really_ contact them."

Julian closed his eyes and shook his head, feeling absolutely and utterly hopeless.

"I can't believe this is happening again," his voice cracked at the end of the sentence and he hated it. He covered his eyes with one hand as he leaned back against the counter, feeling tired and drained.

Derek's voice was a lot softer and a lot gentler when he spoke next. "How are you holding up, Jules? Is Lo still with you?"

"I'm holding up just fine. I mean, someone trying to kill me, it's happening on a regular basis right?" he laughed nervously, pushing back some dark strands of hair.

He wished he could walk away from all of this.

"And Logan's still here. Still not remembering, as oblivious as always, moody as always—but at least he's still here."

Derek sighed into the phone, his breath deep, shaky... heavy with the weight of the world. "Okay. Just... tell him to stay there with you, okay?"

"What? I'm not going to ask him to stay with me, Derek. I'm not nine. Also, if he wants to go, he _goes_. It's Logan we're talking about here."

"Fine. I'll call him. Just... Just stay there, I'm coming okay?"

"...okay. Where are you now?"

"Driving back from your mom. And Carmen said she'd come today too, so she should be there any minute."

Julian nodded, even though Derek couldn't see it. "And my parents?"

"I think you should call your parents."

The actor frowned and his eyes glinted for a moment as his stomach churned uncomfortably. "They aren't coming?"

"They want to, they just don't know if _you_ want them to come. So you should call them, stay right there in your apartment with Lo, and wait for Carmen and me to be there. Get it?"

"_Again_, Derek, I'm not _nine_. I get it. Call, don't move, stay."

"Okay then. See you in a few hours. And Jules?"

"Yeah?"

"Watch out, okay?"

"Yeah yeah—always. Bye, D."

"Bye, Jules."

* * *

><p><strong>Past<strong>

**.**

It didn't get better.

Julian never expected for it to get better the _minute_ he left Dalton—but at least after a few weeks... months... maybe even years... he'd really expected that he'd forgotten about Logan Wright by then.

But now... four years later... and everything was still the same.

Logan still haunted his nightmares, the image of him still smirking and snapping and singing in Julian's mind—creating breaches into his heart as usual, storming through his thoughts as usual, creating havoc and chaos as usual... He had never really left.

The young actor was desperately searching for distractions—picking the boys and girls up at bars, or taking them home after events... he didn't really care anymore. As long as the paparazzi didn't get to hear or see anything, he was practically fine with anything. _Everything_ to forget that endlessly aching feeling in his heart and stomach.

On one day, when he was signing posters, cards, and DVDs for fans that were lined up in a long, enthusiastic queue—he met Adam Clavell. Both 19, young, and passionate—they got along right away. Julian smiled and winked and rambled about loving his fans—and Adam swooned and positively gloated in the attention of the famous actor.

Julian knew right away he wanted him as a distraction—not really caring if that was selfish. Adam was sweet, kind, loving, devoted... and he seemed to adore Julian in every possible way, doing everything for him without hesitation.

It had been storming that day—the day they'd first met—and Adam Clavell had come to the event without scanning the weather-forecasts, with as a result that he wasn't clad properly for the biting cold. He wasn't with a car either, and he'd been thrown out of the bus because it was too full already with all of Julian Larson's fans. The bus-driver had been agitated and angry, irritated with the actor for creating such a fuzz and chaos—and Adam had defended the actor passionately, even insulted the bus-driver for his shallow mind. The bus-driver had closed the doors without another word.

And that's how Adam Clavell found himself standing on the side of the road, without a coat and an umbrella, the rain pouring down on him like there was no tomorrow. He'd already felt miserable and ashamed for that sudden declaration to the actor—_"I love you_" how could he have been so _stupid?_—and those feelings seemed to have multiplied in the soaking downpour, making him feel alone and depressed and completely hopeless.

"Adam Clavell...?"

Adam's head whipped around so fast, it was a miracle it was still standing on his neck. His eyes went wide when he recognized that voice even before their eyes locked, and his breath hitched in his throat when he realized that his idol was staring right at him.

The boy had been so lost in his own world, that he hadn't even noticed the shiny black limousine pulling up right next to him. Julian Larson was peering out of a half-closed window—his eyes warm and amused, his ever-existing smile as catty and beautiful as ever.

"What the hell are you doing in the rain dressed like _that_?" the actor continued when he didn't get a response, casually gesturing at Adam's thin clothes. He cocked an eyebrow questioningly, urging the other boy to speak.

"I... I just... The bus-driver... He threw me out..."

Julian raised his eyebrows and laughed heartily. Adam's heart leaped, his body temperature rising as he blushed in delight, and he didn't think he'd ever heard a more beautiful sound in the world. This made everything okay—the cold, the rain, the loneliness... _this_ made everything okay...

"What in the world did you _do_ that he'd throw you _out_?" Julian grinned and he shook his head. "You know what?" The window closed and Adam's heart sunk—just to jump up immediately when the door opened. "Come in. My driver will bring you home. He's a way better driver than that idiot of the bus anyway." Again, one brown eye disappeared behind a quick wink and Adam's heart was so high in his throat that he couldn't even respond, his eyes so wide that they were about to pop out, his body so numb that he couldn't even _move_...

He didn't know _how_, but suddenly he was in the car—everything dry and warm and... and... those warm brown eyes stared right at him, a welcoming smile right under slightly flushed cheeks, smiling at _him_... and even though his parents had funded this whole trip—Adam couldn't remember the last time anyone had been this nice to him.

"T-thank you..." he stumbled breathlessly, still unable to believe this was happening to him.

Julian Larson merely nodded and leaned back in the comfortable couches, the fingers of his right hand playing absentmindedly with a pair of sunglasses, his eyes getting dreamy and far-away as he continued to stare at the boy opposite of him.

He was kind of pretty. Not like the boys Julian usually went for... but do-able.

Cocking his head, the actor slid the tip of one of the arms of his sunglasses between his lips and nibbled softly on it—completely lost in his thoughts and completely unaware of the effects this sight had on his guest.

He was _definitely_ do-able. The way Adam's cheeks flushed just the right way, the way his eyes were huge in awe and admiration—he could live with that for a couple of days... maybe even weeks...

He had to be just as old as him. Maybe a year older or younger.

Definitely do-able.

Adam's eyes got even wider and his lips parted a bit so his breaths could escape through them in rough, hasty puffs. The way Julian was looking at him and the way he was making out with his freaking_sunglasses_ at the same time—it was both magical and extremely, agonizingly _hot_...

_What the hell is happening?_

But suddenly the magical moment was over and the actor had lost that dreamy look—a veil of determination now set in his expression—and he leaned towards the boy with obvious interest. "Where do you live, Adam?" his voice was soft, husky, his lips pulled up in a crooked smirk.

Adam Clavell left the limousine with the phone-number of the actor in his back-pocket and millions—no, _bazillions_—butterflies in his stomach, lifting it up to his heart, cramming both organs in his throat and he wanted to scream of happiness and love and elation, but he couldn't, because he was numb and his throat was filled with his heart and stomach and a love so deep it clouded his mind and made him unable to remember his own name.

They started seeing each other regularly after that—in the beginning once a week, later even more often—and every single time they met, Adam brought a red rose with him, smiling each time Julian rolled his eyes at it and accepted it reluctantly.

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

**.**

Logan snapped his phone shut with a sharp huff, annoyed with Derek for telling him to stay here—as if he'd _leave_ with Clavell breathing in his neck—annoyed with Larson for being still alive, annoyed with himself for missing the freaking shot and finally, annoyed with Clavell for being the unbelievable asshole that he was.

From where he stood by the window—that was _still_ cracked and broken from the bullet—he could see the old building from where he'd missed the shot. A sharp pang flew through his heart, and he could feel the anger boil up all over again. Exhaling sharply, he turned around, wandering through the room and heading to the kitchen.

When he arrived there and stepped through the doorway—his eyes widened and his hands twitched as if they wanted to grab something, all his anger and annoyance gone in a heartbeat and replaced by an undeniably odd frustration.

There, leaning against the counter, brown eyes staring at something only they could see, the sleeves of his shirt casually rolled up till his elbows—was Julian Larson. His mouth was perfectly molded around a red lollipop—pink lips moving over the smooth surface murderously slowly, his pink tongue flicking out to lick the sweet candy almost tentatively.

Logan opened and closed his mouth a few times, but he was unable to say anything, his green gaze completely transfixed on the brunet, knowing that he'd remember this image forever. He stood there for a while, just quietly watching—but when Julian began to _move_ the freaking lollipop in and out of his mouth, his lips starting to get red, sucking and nibbling and licking—he lost all composure.

"What are you _doing_?" he asked loudly, huge green eyes still fixed motionlessly on the actor's lips and tongue.

The lollipop popped from between Julian's lips as he startled violently—jumping up in the air and wheeling around to face Logan, eyes huge and scared, breaths small gasps as he almost choked on it.

"Logan—don't you fucking creep up on me like that!" he hissed, clutching his chest with one hand as he tried to control his breathing.

The blond shifted uneasily when Julian pushed the lollipop back in his mouth violently, his cheeks hollowing out when he sucked on it—brown eyes locked furiously, almost defiantly, on Logan. It looked like he freaking starred in a porn-movie... and Logan couldn't will himself to look away.

"I just..." the sniper licked his lips, eyes following every movement of the lollipop, but more interestingly, those luscious lips that were perfectly shaped to fit around the candy... Julian closed his eyes, leaning back against the counter with a sigh, and Logan shook his head in an attempt to control his thoughts again. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, just... go away," the actor waved his free hand dismissively, expression disdainful as he glowered at the blond.

"But... you're..." _sexually harassing the fucking candy, Larson_, "...what are you _doing_?"

"I just called my parents, and now I'm eating a _lollipop_—can you please go now? Are you enough informed about my whereabouts and activities? _Go_—I'm still mad at you."

Logan tilted his head and chuckled in honest disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."

Julian narrowed his eyes, his full lips pouting as the lollipop was pulled from between them. He pointed the candy to the blond, gaze still as annoyed as ever. "You need to go now. I'm not kidding. Leave me alone."

Logan was about to answer that with a scathing reply, because he, too, was still mad, and he wanted him to know that, and he didn't want to leave this room, with the lollipop and the actor and the lips—but then a sharp, intense ringing sound echoed through the apartment and one of Julian's mouth corners quirked up hearing it.

"That's probably Carmen."

The blond raised an eyebrow, eyes sliding over to the lollipop and those lips that were talking against it.

"Can you get it?" Julian inquired, not really asking with how demanding his tone was.

Logan scoffed. "Why don't _you_ get it?"

"You work for me. I want you out of my neighborhood. _You_ get it," Julian snapped, finally having enough. "_Now_."

Logan narrowed his eyes, fingers lightly trailing over his gun. It didn't go unseen by Julian, and the brunet's eyes were on fire as they seemed to burn holes in Logan's face.

"You touch that gun one more time around me and you're fired. I don't fucking care anymore."

But Logan didn't move, merely narrowed his eyes in a silent fury. The sniper's fingers were clenched tightly around the weapon, every movement followed closely by wide, sepia eyes—and the blond was going to pull it out, cock it, and shoot a bullet right through the actor's head, weren't it for the second ring that pierced through the air like nails on a chalkboard. Concentration lost, Logan spat a curse and turned around roughly, stalking to the door with a vehement expression.

The lollipop had fallen to the ground, and Julian stared after Logan with wide eyes, his breathing fast and shallow, because that look in those green eyes just now... it had frightened him the exact same way Adam's expression had frightened him all those years ago.

* * *

><p><strong>Past<strong>

**.**

Derek and Adam couldn't stand each other. It went so deep, that Julian couldn't trust them to be civilized when left alone together. Derek would glare at Adam with so much distrust and so much dislike, and Adam would stare right back, dark eyes narrowed and blazing with an insane anger and a hatred that Julian didn't understand.

He talked about it, with Derek, with Adam—but it didn't help much.

Derek would just cross his arms and turn to the actor with fire in his eyes and his cheeks flushed in heated anger.

"I don't like the way he looks at you, Jules."

Julian raised an eyebrow and glanced at Adam, back on the table in the restaurant, staring at the two friends with jealousy gleaming in his eyes.

"The way he _looks_ at me?" Julian repeated incredulously. "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You _know_ what I mean," Derek's eyes flickered from the strange boy to his best friend, and he tugged on the actor's sleeve, pulling him around the corner, obscuring them from view, ensuring that Adam's creepy stare wouldn't be following them any longer.

"No, I don't," Julian stubbornly replied and he yanked his sleeve free from his friend's grasp, almost falling backwards against the wall when he did.

Derek pressed his lips together in annoyance and leaned towards his friend, his voice a hiss, his words fast and sharp. "He looks at you like you're something to _eat_, Julian. He looks at you the way lions look at their prey, he looks at you like—you remember that movie we watched last week? About psychopaths? He looks at you like one."

"What?" Julian stared at Derek with open mouth and wide eyes, wondering if his friend had finally gone insane. He raked a hand through his hair and shook his head with a small chortle. "You're crazy, D. It finally happened."

Derek grabbed Julian's shoulders firmly and squeezed hard, forcing his friend to look at him. "Julian—listen to me. I don't like him, I don't trust him—"

"I get that..." Julian mumbled as his eyes raked over the athlete with a curious expression.

"Shut up for a moment! Just—don't... Just be careful, okay? If you _have_ to spend time with him, be careful. I don't trust him one bit."

Julian swatted Derek's hands away impatiently, and shrugged. "Fine, fine—I'll be careful... you crazy person..."

Derek whacked Julian's head—not hard, but not soft either—making oak-colored hair fly everywhere. "I'm not crazy, moron."

Julian rolled his eyes, hands coming up to fix his hair, and he smirked when he replied. "Sure you're not, Derek. 'He looks at you like lions look at their prey'—get a grip," he snickered, not seeing Derek's uneasy expression when he turned around. "I'm pretty sure he's alright and that he's _not_ going to eat me. Or whatever," he snorted.

"Are you in love with him?"

Julian came to a halt immediately and he wheeled around, eyes wide and flashing, his lips parted to let a sharp breath pass, and he gazed at Derek in utter disbelief. "_What?_"

"Well? Are you?"

The actor scrunched up his face in disgust, and he glanced at Adam quickly before speaking. "_No!_ Look at him! He's not even my type. He's cute... but that's about everything."

"Ah," Derek exclaimed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling before they glared back at Julian. "So, you're using him?"

"No! Derek—no. I'm not using him. I'm not in love with him. He's just a friend, okay?"

"A friend who has been having dinner with you at your _parent's_, a friend who, suddenly, is having dinner with _us_?"

Julian fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "So, okay... maybe I can't really get rid of him... and maybe he's a bit of a fanboy..."

"A _bit_?"

"Okay, okay—a lot, maybe... but nothing's wrong with that, right?"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Nothing's wrong with that?"

"Stop repeating everything I say!"

"Julian—just _think_. Why would you want a fanboy as friend, that's crap and you know it! _Please _tell me you're not doing it just to get admired—because I might have to strangle you if that's the reason you keep him around."

The actor's glare was murderous. "I'm _not_ keeping him around to be admired, you idiot. He's actually nice to me. And he's sweet..."

"Julian—"

Julian sighed and turned around, stopping dead when he saw at least five cameras pointed at them. He cursed softly and reached out to grab Derek's hand. "Come on, we'd better get back to our table, before they think we're having another lover's quarrel."

"Like the last time?"

"Like the last time."

Derek chuckled, but as they walked back to the table, he frowned in concern. "Aren't you just a little bit desperate, Jules?"

Julian shook his head and without looking up, he answered dryly. "It's surprisingly pleasant to _be_ looked at like I'm worth it—instead of being the one who looks like that to someone who doesn't even know it."

"...Logan?"

Julian nodded once—shortly and resolutely. "Yeah."

Derek sighed, and reached up to ruffle Julian's hair. Julian smacked his arm away with a scowl and a flaming insult, but the athlete merely laughed at him and flicked his ear teasingly. "Just watch out, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah—always."

Adam's eyes were smoldering when the two best friends settled back in their seats on the table, and he was observing them quietly while they bickered back and forth, feeling the third wheel, feeling alone, feeling betrayed because his precious time alone with Julian was being stolen from him.

And then, somehow, in the middle of a conversation about movies—Adam suddenly spoke up, wide eyes glued on Julian's face, lips turned up in a dreamy smile, speaking words that made Derek laugh and retch at the same time.

"—you're so beautiful..."

Julian nearly choked on his drink, and Derek had to cover his mouth with his hand in order not to spit out his food. The actor's cheeks flushed a bit when he smiled his cheshire-cat grin. "Ah well..."

Derek kicked him under the table, almost choking in an attempt to hold in his laughter. "Don't be _shy_, Jules..."

Adam gave Derek a cold glare that went unnoticed to the two friends, and turned around to Julian, eyes all huge and admiring again.

"And so talented and you're just... you're just unreal—"

"Adam, I know," Julian started, what earned him a hit on his shoulder by a snorting Derek, "but you're exag—"

"You're like a dream coming true."

Julian raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his seat, wide eyes staring at Adam in surprise. Next to him, Derek put his fork and knife down on his plate and crossed his arms, sharp eyes examining Adam cautiously while he awaited an answer from Julian. Finally, the actor put his drink down slowly, and when he looked up, his eyes were narrowed and a catty smile was playing around his lips.

"Don't exaggerate, Adam," his lashes threw long shadows over his cheeks as he looked down. "I'm very unlike a dream coming true."

Adam smiled—a soft, sad, gentle smile—and he leaned forward, Derek absolutely forgotten as his eyes twinkled in a mesmerizing manner. "You're _my_ dream coming true..."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a while—Adam staring at Julian in obvious awe, Julian staring anywhere except at his stricken fanboy.

After a few minutes, Derek coughed and nudged his friend roughly, gaining back his attention. "So... what was this new movie of yours, Jules?"

Adam scowled and glared daggers at him, reluctantly leaning back in his seat again.

But where Adam's mood dwindled down—Julian seemed to light up with this question and his gestures were wild and enthusiastic as he told his friends the plot line.

"It's going to be a _huge_ movie, it's going to be _groundbreaking_, I promise you. I can't tell you too much—but it's about this teenage couple that's going to marry because she got pregnant unexpectedly. They offered me the part of the lead teen," his smile was brilliant and his eyes were like stars as he continued. "It's going to be absolutely genius, the director—he's one of the best there is. This is going to do_wonders_ for my career—you have _no_ idea."

Derek smiled warmly at him. "Congrats, Jules."

Adam stared at the actor, food disregarded and forgotten as he stayed silent and listened to Julian chatter excitably about the amazing line-up and the famous director. Julian didn't pay much attention, but Derek did noticed how Adam's fingers dug in his own arms, he saw how the boy's lips pulled down in a disapproving grimace, and he saw the fierce obsession flicker in his dark eyes.

Unconsciously, Derek scooted closer to Julian, eyes fixed on the strange boy. He'd have to watch out for this one.

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

**.**

Still annoyed, Logan walked to the door of the apartment, grumbling a curse when another, impatient ring stabbed in his ears. The sound stopped abruptly when he yanked the door open—just like Logan's breathing.

Staring right at him, were three men—three _policemen_.

Police.

What?

_Police?_

The assassin tried to control his growing panic—having absolutely no intention to be sent to jail for his many crimes—and he was already surreptitiously searching for escape-routes throughout the apartment. There was the window that led directly to the fire-escape, there was the window in the kitchen, but that would mean a fall of three floors... There was also his gun of course. His hand snaked their way to his hips, fingers resting lightly on the cool, familiar metal.

If the three policemen noticed the movement, they didn't let it filter through their expressions, though. They casually strolled in the apartment without an invitation, one of them taking the lead and introducing themselves.

"We're here to investigate the murder-attempt on Mr. Larson—could you be so kind to show us the scene where it happened, Mr...?"

Logan narrowed his eyes in confusion and cocked his head, purposefully ignoring the inquiry of his name. "Who called you?"

"Mr. Larson, of course," the biggest man grumbled, crossing his arms just as his partners finally spotted the ruined window and walked to it.

The sniper raised his eyebrows. "He did?"

"Yes, of course," the man smirked.

"Can I see your badges?" Logan asked suspiciously, holding up his hand in a silent demand. The policeman merely grinned as he reached in his pocket and took out his badge. Logan examined it carefully, looking for any flaws, but it seemed alright. He gave it back with a short nod.

"Well, I'll tell Mr. Larson you're here then."

Julian was still in the kitchen, sitting on a chair and staring at the clock with a small frown.

"The police is here," Logan said casually, walking in the kitchen with a tight expression. "Examining the murder-attempt."

Julian jumped hearing his voice and he closed his eyes to gain control over himself. "Can you please _knock_ before you enter a room? Damn it." But his frown deepened and he looked away from the clock, sepia stare landing on the blond's face. "But, what did you say?"

The blond sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "The police. They're here to investigate the matter where you were almost killed. I do hope it didn't slip your mind, Larson."

The actor scowled. "I remember what happened, Majesty. But what the hell is the police doing here?"

"Examining the damn window, and the wall with the bullet," Logan said, smirking when he remembered he took the bullet out yesterday.

Julian glanced at the clock. "Carmen should've been here hours ago," he muttered, looking very much like a spoiled child with the way he pouted and looked longingly at the time. He faced Logan next. "I didn't call any police. I didn't want them involved. So send them out again, please."

Logan's eyes widened and he cooled down till the bone. "You _didn't_ call the police?"

"No. So I have no idea why they are fucking here. And _where_ the hell is Carmen?" Julian jumped up from his chair and stalked out of the kitchen, brushing passed Logan and into the living room where the policemen were crouched down next to the window.

"Okay—_out_," he demanded, gesturing to the door with one hand, the other firmly planted on his hip. "I didn't call you, I don't _need_ you, I'll solve this all on my own. Okay? Now, there's the door, _go_."

The three men looked up, carrying scathing expressions and a furious glint in their eyes. Logan—who'd followed the actor to the living room—felt another cold shiver ran over his spine, and his suspicion and wariness grew with every second. He grabbed Julian's shoulder and steered him back to the kitchen.

"Excuse me, men," he called to the three strangers. "I'm going to talk some sense into the diva, okay?"

Something was wrong about those men.

Julian was angry when he let him go, and he wheeled around, swatting Logan's hand away from his body.

"Don't. Touch. Me," he hissed through clenched teeth, and Logan had to repress a smile, because did he really think he was being intimidating? With the way the actor's cheeks were flushed, and the way his hair was messed up from when he'd raked his hands through it too many times, and the way his eyes were sparkling up at the blond, and the way he sounded like an angry cat...

Logan sighed and glanced out the window, trying to control his thoughts before turning absolutely serious again. "Listen, Julian. Are you sure you didn't call the police?"

"_Yes_. I'm absolutely sure. So tell me, Oh Tempestuous One, what the hell are they doing here?"

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, the sniper shook his head. If Julian didn't call them... the police didn't show up for the investigation of a murder-attempt with this little people. So, either the police had gone insane, or it wasn't the police at all.

And Logan was willing to put all his money on the latter assumption.

He bit his lip and looked down at the seething actor. "I think I'm going to talk to them for a moment. You wait here, okay?"

Julian crossed his arms, eyes blazing as he actually stamped on the floor. "I'm not a freaking _child_, Logan! Tell me what's going on!"

"Nothing is going on," Logan rolled his eyes. "I'm just going to have a talk with them, it's in my job description. You stay here."

Julian's eyes narrowed down to slits as he defiantly let himself fall back against the counter. His glare was on fire and absolutely, utterly ferocious. "I hate you."

"Yeah, yeah—hate you too," Logan sneered. "Now, stay here, don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."

He walked out the kitchen, feeling the blazing, infuriated glare of the actor burn in his back, but he didn't turn around. He made sure the door was closed securely before he turned around to face the three men. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a little smirk as he scanned their expressions—green gaze wary, sharp, and all-seeing as he spoke up.

"Well men—what can I do for you?"

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! :D Please let me hear your thoughts in a review, they're so appreciated and they help me write faster :P<strong>

**Also, for the ones who are a bit confused by now: Logan doesn't know the story behind Julian and Adam, and so he has no idea he is working for Julian's crazy fanboy-stalker. He doesn't know a thing about Clavell's past.**

**Well, see you next time, sweeties :) *blows kisses***

**- Rose**


	7. Free Falling

**Hi everyone! This chapter is quite long, and the most part is about Julian and Adam's past, just to wrap that up. Next chapters will be shorter (I hope XD) and will only take place in the present time. If I don't change my mind about things ;)**

**Disclaimers: I do not own all recognizable characters, they belong to CP Coulter and her fic Dalton.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: Free Falling<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Past<strong>

**.**

Over the next few weeks, Julian noticed some changes about his newest friend. Changes he didn't really know how to deal with. Adam grew more possessive—obviously jealous when the actor wasn't hanging out with him, obviously chagrined when the actor wasn't paying attention to him. It was kind of unsettling to realize that the sweet, kind, compassionate boy Julian had gotten used to, was now growing into something the actor couldn't quite understand.

They were at Adam's place when it all escalated. Julian had just wrapped up a tiring day filled with interviews and long talks to reporters and paparazzi regarding his newest movie. Adam had offered him a place to escape to, since no one really knew the actor was hanging out with him, so no one would suspect him of being here.

As the actor plopped down on the couch, Adam stood in the middle of the room, merely watching him, his gaze so intense and devoted it made Julian feel a little bit awkward.

He patted the space besides him, sepia eyes carrying an oddly calculated look as they glanced at the boy. He'd been acting weirder the past few weeks. "Why don't we watch a movie, Adam?"

Seeming to come out of his trance, Adam shook his head lightly and smiled. "Yeah—that would be nice. Which one do you want to watch?" he walked to the television, giving Julian a questioning look.

The actor waved his hand through the air. "I don't really care. As long as it doesn't have me in it."

Staring at his stack of DVDs, Adam bit his lips—wondering if he actually _had_ something that didn't star Julian Larson. "Uhm... Sure," he sighed in relief when he found a movie that was so old, Julian had been too young to play in any movies at that time. "Romance is good?"

"Romance is fine."

Adam jammed the DVD in its place, his heart flying through his entire body in his thrilled excitement. He was going to watch a romantic movie with Julian Larson. _He_ was going to watch a _romantic movie_ with _Julian_ _Larson_. Once the DVD was in and he'd pressed play, he scrambled up from his kneeling position and hurried to the couch, flicking off the lights on his way.

He tried to stay still through the opening credits—he _honestly_ tried to stay still—but, almost unconsciously, he started to scoot closer to the actor, not noticing how Julian threw him a bewildered look when he practically leaned against him when the first love-scenes played out.

The lights of the television created illuminating shadows of strange, flickering colors that threw themselves across the dark room, shimmering over the two boys on the couch, wrapping them in an oddly unreal world in which only they and the movie existed.

Julian felt uncomfortable.

Adam felt absolutely, positively _thrilled_.

Carefully, he laid a hand on Julian's knee, butterflies spreading their million wings as he felt Julian's warmth radiate through his palm. He gazed at the actor, noticing how his jaw was clenched and his eyes stubbornly set on the movie—and he smiled quietly. He would have to be careful. But wasn't he always? Always cautious not to hurt Julian, or not to scare him away—because, how many of those _creeps_ must this beautiful boy have had that wanted to claim him for themselves? It must have been dozens... Adam was just really glad none of them had succeeded and that they were together now, and that Julian finally saw that they belonged like this. Together.

The man and the woman in the movie—and why did it always have to be a man and a woman, Adam thought hastily, because what they had, what Julian and he had, was love, _too_—they tenderly clutched each other's hands, gazing into the other's eyes with a loving look that Adam could not bear to look at.

He wanted to share such a look...

He glanced sideways to the actor, whose eyes were still glued to the movie, even though Adam doubted he was really watching it.

He scooted closer just a little bit more.

Julian turned around, eyes tingling with an emotion that could've been annoyance—but what changed upon seeing Adam's longing, devoted, passionate, _loving_ look. A look he had been waiting to _receive_ for so many years.

Adam smiled, and they bowed their heads closer.

When the man and the woman on the movie clashed together in a passionate kiss—the two boys on the couch let their lips touch tenderly, their kiss surprisingly soft and sweet and gentle.

Adam let go of Julian's knee to reach up and cup his face, angling his head so he could deepen the kiss.

The kiss had two opposite effects, though.

While Julian's heart melted, his entire body relaxing with the knowledge that apparently he _was_ worth these kind of looks, and that these kind of looks and this affection _could_ be given to him—Adam's heart expanded and exploded with a love so great and so intense and so enormous, that it drove him quite literally insane.

His mind seemed to be constructed out of a thousand tiny radars and Julian's kiss and his fingers that laid gently on Adam's arm and leg had triggered them into movement—making all those radars spin and wheel around smoothly, loosening some emotion that had been hidden deep inside of him. And all he could think of, all that was racing through his head, were three simple words.

_He is mine_.

Slow caresses and gentle tenderness were suddenly thrown aside, and his fingers dug into Julian's clothes, dragging the actor closer, his mind paying no attention to the fact that Julian's hands were planted firmly against his chest—not in affection, not to pull him closer, but in a desperate act to push him away.

Adam's fingers were drilling in his skin, the power of his grasp constricting the blood flow in his arms, and Adam's teeth were raking over Julian's lips and face—and it was too much, too fast, too rough to be comfortable.

"Adam—" Julian mumbled against teeth and lips, and he pushed harder, but the boy was too _strong_ and it was hopeless, and he was beginning to feel hopeless, and he just wanted to _get out of here_.

"Adam, _please_—"

Adam pulled back the tiniest bit, leaving a space just big enough to speak properly. "I know, I _know_," he brought a hand up to stroke a stray brown lock of hair from Julian's forehead. His eyes were smoldering coals as he leaned forwards again, his lips hovering over Julian's, his whispering words fierce and sharp, cutting through the air like swords. "I _know_, Julian. I'm so happy you finally saw this, saw _us_, like I've been seeing us for months—for _years_..."

"Adam..." a growing panic settled in his heart, and his eyes were wide as he stared at the boy—an absolute _stranger_ now—in utter disbelief. "Adam... _don't_..."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Julian—I'll _never_ hurt you..." his lips crashed to Julian's, and the actor moaned in protest and a blinding fear—but Adam interpreted it all wrong, and when Julian tried to kick him off, they rolled over and fell off the couch with a loud bang.

Turning his head to the side, Julian gasped for air, his hands furiously trying to lift Adam's heavy body off of his—but dear God, why was he so _strong_? "Adam, Adam—what are you _doing_? Why are you _doing_ th—"

Adam grabbed his face, turning it to him again, effectively shutting him up. "Don't be afraid, Julian."

Sepia eyes grew wide with fear as he saw a strange emotion shimmer in those dark coals of Adam—a fierce emotion that was crazy, insane, driven mad by love and devotion and obsession...

"Adam..." he whispered, not able to speak properly because of the hold Adam had on his jaw. "What happened..."

"_You_ happened... Don't you see it?" Adam's face split into a brilliant smile—and for one small moment, Julian could see that boy again, sweet, patient, loving—but then Adam narrowed his eyes and the insanity returned. The insanity that may have been there all along—lingering, lurking, waiting for the right time to break free in all its frightening glory.

Adam's touches hurt him—the way he was straddling him was not right, his knees jotting into Julian's sides forcefully, Adam's hands tearing over his body like it was his already.

Julian had never felt this powerless, he had never _ever_ felt this out of control of his own body. But then there was a gap—just this split second that Adam leaned back to let his eyes wander over the actor's body with that mad, obsessive expression—and Julian shot forward, unbalancing the fanboy, his knee coming up to slam hard in between Adam's legs.

Adam yelled in pain, rolling off Julian with his hands clutching his crotch, and Julian scrambled up, tripping and stumbling as he ran from the room, nearly breaking the door in his haste to go outside. He didn't wait for the elevator, but immediately dashed off the stairs—tripping and falling several times—and his cheeks were streaked with tears of panic and fear, and he felt dirty as he made his way outside the building, well aware of the thundering footsteps behind him that were Adam's.

He slammed the door of the building shut, and sprinted out, his eyes huge and his breathing ragged and wild. His heart was absolutely hysterical, fluttering so fiercely it actually hurt his chest.

After a few minutes of running thoughtlessly—just running, just getting away from that creep—he realized he wasn't running to his own house... but to Derek's.

A sob escaped him as he rang the bell impatiently, only now noticing it was drizzling gently, the soft rain laying a coat of droplets over his hair, face and clothes. He'd forgotten to bring along his jacket and he was cold.

Derek's voice crackled through the intercom, and Julian practically flung himself at the device, his hands clawing in the wall as he frantically searched the roads for that familiar figure.

"Derek—it's me. You _have_ to let me in. _Please_ let me in—you have to _help _me!" he was hysterical now, throwing out words, choking on his breath, his fingers curling into tight fists. His heart plummeted when he thought about what so easily _could_ have happened. "Help me..."

"Jules? _Jules!_ What the hell happened? Wait—come inside. _Now_."

There was a low, buzzing sound, and without hesitation, Julian pushed the door open, closed it securely, and darted up the stairs.

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

**.**

The three men looked up as Logan stepped in the room, sly grins playing around their lips as they straightened up from their crouches. One of the men—big, muscled, dark, clearly in charge—stepped forward with a cunning expression in his beetle-like eyes, his fingers tapping almost casually on the gun hanging on his hip.

"Logan Wright, I assume?"

Logan narrowed his eyes, his gaze flickering to the faces of the men, occasionally glancing down to their weapons and the hands hovering over them.

"Who are you?"

The dark man smirked, his white teeth forming a stark contrast with his dark skin, and his eyes glinted dangerously. "Clavell sent us. Apparently," he narrowed his eyes, "you've been acting disobedient."

Logan's heart dropped, and his eyes swiveled from the kitchen door and back to the three men staring at him. He raised an eyebrow arrogantly, lifting his chin and crossing his arms over his chest. "So why are you here?"

The dark man's grin got wider and he pulled out his gun in a quick movement, waving it casually to Logan. "We've been told to kill you if you don't finish your job."

"Finish my job?" Logan got cold, knowing _exactly_ what they were expecting from him. Sure enough, one of the other two men stepped forward now—blond, short, eyes piercing through the sniper like they could see everything.

"Kill the actor."

The dark man looked around sharply, not appreciating the fact that the other man had spoken before him. "Briggs, back off. I got this."

The blond man—Briggs—narrowed his eyes at him, but obeyed easily, obviously trained to do so.

Logan lifted his eyebrows in surprise, glancing at the gun pointed to him before gazing in narrowed dark eyes. "What? _Now?_ I have to kill him _now?_"

"If you know what good is for you—yes," the dark man smiled menacingly, raking the fingers of his free hand over his gun. "And if you do not do so—_we'll_ finish the job. Of course, you'll understand that we can't let you live when we've killed Larson."

Logan bit his lip, looking back to the kitchen door and wishing with all his heart that Julian wasn't about to be stupid and step out of that room. His eyes fell on a window, and as he looked outside, he saw the ever-existing paparazzi there—hidden between bushes, behind buildings, umbrellas protecting their expensive cameras and sound-systems against the steadily drizzling rain. His stomach churned in frustration.

"Of course I'll kill him," he fired back. "I just don't think _you _understand how this works." His voice was a hissed whisper—angry, but afraid to alert Julian in the kitchen. He wondered if the brunet was hearing this conversation and whether he was thinking of a way to escape. "I can't just storm in there and pull my gun—_look_ at what is outside. All of that paparazzi, all of those people, they won't miss it! I'll be fucking screwed if they catch it on tape—_you'll_ be screwed when they catch it on tape. Let's just take this easy and think it a bit through, guys."

The dark man didn't smile, didn't waver, didn't even blink. He cocked his gun and aimed it at Logan's head. "Go in there now. If we don't hear a gunshot in the next five minutes, you're both dead," his voice was low and dangerous. "Your choice, Wright." He nodded at the other two men, standing behind him like guards. "These two here are Briggs and Stokes. They have a record of twenty murders each. Won't suggest you to anger them. Or _me_, for that matter."

Logan had to do his best not to snort. They all knew he had more on his record than anyone in this room. "Fine," he said after only a brief moment of hesitation. "But I assure you that you will _not_ have to barge in there like the primitive cavemen you are," he added coldly, eyes shooting fire. "I'll finish it myself."

He turned around stiffly and walked in the kitchen, slamming the door shut with a resounding bang.

Julian looked up at him with bored, brown eyes, leaning against the counter lazily as he cocked an eyebrow. "And? You sent them out? It sounded like you were having a bit of an argument in there."

Logan exhaled slowly, green eyes gazing in brown as he let his hand travel to his gun.

"Logan—what the hell are you doing?"

His fingers clenched around cold metal, and without another thought, he pulled his gun, aiming it right at Julian.

* * *

><p><strong>Past<strong>

**.**

Adam was furious as he raced behind Julian out of the building, stopping dead when the door clicked shut behind him. It was cold outside, his breath coming out in white puffs of air. His dark eyes roamed the streets, uncertain of which way the actor had left.

Why would he do that in the first place? Why would he _run_?

Shaking his head shortly, Adam decided to visit Julian's apartment first, and he proceeded to sprint down the road, catching a bus just in time so he could get there quickly. The bus ride was a hell—way too slow, way too many stops. But when he was finally there, he dashed out of the vehicle and made his way to the actor's apartment. There was paparazzi scattered around the place, as usual, but they didn't pay him attention as he yanked the door open and ran inside.

The door was opened easily enough, having nicked Julian's keys out of his coat that he'd left hanging. Adam felt a sharp pang of frustration and bitter disappointment as he stepped inside and saw that the actor was not here. He must've gone straight to Derek, but Adam had no idea where the athlete lived.

He sighed, a sob catching in his throat and struggling its way out of his mouth.

This was unfair. So, _so_ unfair. He _finally _had him. He _had_ him. And now... now he had lost him...

He licked his lips, still tasting the fragrance of Julian Larson, the image of him lying beneath him—vulnerable, wide-eyed, absolutely gorgeous—was forever imprinted in his mind and Adam relished in that memory, clutching the fabric over his heart while he thought about it.

Fury bubbled up again as the memory of Julian _leaving_ came up, and Adam stomped further in the room, collapsing on a couch and rubbing his face firmly. While he was sitting there, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands—his eyes fell on a box that was half-hidden behind a chair. Curiosity getting the better of him, he stood up from the couch and crouched in front of the box.

Dozens and dozens of unsent letters—crumpled up, yellow with age, edges torn, and ink splattered all over them—were stacked in there, and Adam's eyes went wide as he carefully took one, folding it open and reading it.

_Logan,_

_I know I haven't contacted you since I left, and I'm sorry. I was just really busy, but... at the moment... I'm not anymore. And I was wondering if maybe we could meet up somewhere? I don't know if you're okay with that. I don't know if you actually care, but..._

The rest was crossed out and Adam frowned in confusion, flipping the letter over to see that it was dated only two years ago. He threw the letter aside and picked up another one, eyes sprinting over the neatly written words.

_Hi Lo,_

_I'm sorry I haven't called you back, or answered all your texts. Man, why did you send so many anyway? Anyway... I was thinking that maybe we should see each other again? Maybe we could meet again? I know you're still at Dalton, Derek told me. But maybe..._

Again, the rest was crossed out so thickly that the words had become unreadable. The date resembled the last one, and Adam dropped the letter to the ground and chose another one from the disturbingly large pile. This one looked rather new, whiter than the others, less torn than the others—and it was with his heart in his throat that Adam read the date first. It was dated less than a year ago. Panic was growing with a striking speed, and his chest hurt with the sharp breaths he took.

_John Logan Wright III,_

_I'm bi. I've known since I was 13. I've loved you since I was 14. I've loved you since I've first laid eyes on you. You probably don't remember. I don't expect you to remember. You don't really care about it anyway. But frankly, I don't care about that. You're a stuck up asshole and I wish I'd never fallen for you. Yes, I hate you. Why don't you just disappear out of my life, okay? Just go. GO AWAY. I hate you so much, Logan. You stupid, stupid asshole. Making me fall in love with you. Stupid, stupid ass._

The rest was unreadable as it was written down ugly and thickly, the words running in to each other messily—obviously written in an undeniably stormy emotional state.

Adam choked and he threw the letter away with force, picking up one that seemed just as new. The date was set only mere months ago, and he read it with a heavy, black heart and a loud buzzing sound in his ears. This one just stated six simple words.

_Lo,_

_I love you. _

_Forever, Jules_

Traitorous tears slid over Adam's cheeks and the letter slipped from his fingers as he looked up at the ceiling, violent sobs tearing from his chest . It hurt. And he felt utterly, thoroughly betrayed. He thought they _had_ something. He thought they had a _thing._ But apparently, everything was a lie. Apparently, the actor had only used him as a distraction. Adam wasn't dumb. He could see it now.

Those wide eyes hadn't been a plea to go on. They had reflected fear and a plea to _stop_.

Still... Adam refused to believe that they _didn't belong_ together. Because he knew with all of his heart that they _did_. They _did_ belong together. They would defy gravity together. They would light up the world together. They would be _gorgeous _together.

He did believe that.

He wasn't going to stop until Julian saw this, too.

Sighing in disappointment, he hung his head when he realized that the actor would probably be reluctant to share that belief. But that wasn't bad. That was okay. Because Adam believed in _heaven,_ too. And everyone knew that heaven was the place for your dreams to come true—even if they didn't come true in real life, even if they betrayed you on earth.

He stood up from his crouching position, leaving the basket and the letters for what they were, not sparing them a second look.

A serene smile played around his lips, his eyes staring dreamily into space, threads of madness flickering inside of them. He would get them to heaven. He would get them both to heaven. Because... because if he could do _that_—and he _would_ accomplish it, one way or another—they would finally be together forever. They would be _happy_ together.

Another tear trickled languidly down his cheek, and his smile widened—insane, crazy, wildly in love.

Oh yes... he would get them to heaven.

* * *

><p><strong>Present<strong>

**.**

Upon seeing the gun directed at his face, Julian stumbled backwards against the counter, knocking over pans and glasses that were standing on it. His eyes became huge, nearly swallowing his pale face, sepia gaze fixed motionlessly on the gun. His heart stuttered for a few seconds before rapidly bouncing against his ribcage, as if wildly desperate to get out of here before it was too late. The actor sagged a little, his hands clenching around the edge of the counter so he would not collapse on the floor.

He exhaled shakily, struggling to keep his breathing steady.

Green eyes were like lightening as they stared at the brunet, and they narrowed while Logan's finger curled around the gun, a sharp click echoing through the deadly quiet kitchen as he cocked it.

"Logan—" the whisper—choked out, barely audible, words laced with utter fear and desperation—cut through the silent air, and Julian's shoes made a squeaking sound as he shifted his stance. He stopped dead when the gun followed him with a sharp movement, and Julian's eyes welled with tears, unable to stop them in his blood curling fear.

He'd looked down a barrel before. But never—_never ever_—had he looked down a barrel that was held by his _friend_. A friend he'd trusted with his _life_.

"Logan—" he tried it again with a raspy voice. "What... what are you _doing_?"

Logan pressed his lips together, well aware of the fact that he was only promised _five_ minutes, and one of them had just been wasted for nothing.

"I'm sorry Julian," he murmured, bringing his finger down to pull the trigger. He pulled it the tiniest fraction of a inch—just not far enough to actually fire the gun—and froze, his heart beating as fast as the wings of a humming-bird. His green eyes fell on brown ones, and he found it _physically _impossible to pull the trigger completely. He could see it all in his mind—the images of dozens of people shot before Julian—how the actor would exhale his last breath, how he would collapse pathetically, how the blood would splatter all up the walls, how it would create a shiny, red pool on the floor.

Three minutes.

The gun trembled in his hands.

"Lo... What are you _doing_?" came the ragged whisper again.

Logan looked up, expression tortured and frustrated, and he noticed how all the color had left Julian's face. His lips were pale, his usually flushed cheeks were a chalky white. It looked wrong on him.

His free hand raked through his hair and he closed his eyes for the smallest moment as he aimed the gun again, fully intending to _shoot_ this time, practically begging his finger to just fucking _curl_ this time.

Sweat was dripping from both Julian and Logan's temples, both eyes were locked together for what seemed like an eternity.

Two minutes.

His mind was utter chaos—thoughts trashing around like wildfire—and Logan exhaled slowly.

Maybe—_maybe_—he hadn't missed entirely on accident when he'd pulled the trigger on Julian Larson that first time. Maybe he'd fully intended to miss. Intention being buried deep inside, that is, but still... maybe he'd always meant to miss this target.

His eyes widened with this sudden realization. A realization he knew to be true.

He couldn't possibly shoot. He couldn't _possibly_ shoot...

One minute.

Green eyes closed and the gun swung downwards as he brought his arm to his side. Julian took a shaking breath, his eyes shooting from the weapon to Logan, who was standing there with his eyes closed and his chest heaving.

"_Fuck_."

It could've been a gunshot. Julian jumped in the air, startled so badly, he knocked over the remaining stuff on the counter and nearly fell to the floor himself.

The knocking on the door—slow, almost teasing—made Logan open his eyes hastily, and Julian had no time to prepare himself as he brought his gun up again.

"Yes, yes—I'm fucking done here, you fucking vultures!" he yelled, and with that, he pulled the trigger resolutely.

Julian screamed—even though it wasn't a real scream with how tight his throat was, making his voice pathetically squeaky, making it sound like someone had stepped on a mouse.

"Hear that? It's done, he's dead!" Logan pushed his gun back in its holster and laid his finger on his lips in a keep-quiet gesture as he dashed to the window.

Julian's eyes were wide and staring straight ahead as his chest struggled to move and get oxygen in his body. The bullet was inches from his head, penetrated in the wall right next to him. His knuckles grew white as he clutched to the counter, having to use all his power not to fall on the floor.

The door handle creaked as it was pushed down, and Logan whipped his head around to watch it in horror, fear keeping him paralyzed for a moment.

Time was up.

Logan leaned over the counter and knocked the window open, wheeling around to grab a chair and to push it under the handle, preventing it from opening any further. Loud curses erupted from the men behind the door, and Logan let out a stream of profanities as he rounded on the actor, clutching his elbow and yanking him in the direction of the opened window.

"Jump," he hissed, but Julian was stunned with so many emotions, he could only shake his head as he stared out of the window.

"That's... that's a drop of three floors—do you think I'm mad?" he whispered back, heart still in his throat.

The door made a noisy cracking sound as the three men used all their weight to get through it, and fear clenched around Logan's heart as he glanced back to the door and then to the frightened actor. Grabbing both his shoulders, he leaned down till they were nose to nose.

"Listen, _Princess_, it's either _this_ or being shot in the head. Your fucking choice, but I know _I _will jump. So, if you'd just go fucking first," and with these words, he pushed the actor over the counter.

Julian's hands clenched around the window sill, and he felt terribly nauseous as he looked down. The rain swept his face, the wind making hair fly everywhere. He looked back, absolutely horrified, looking for reassurance from Logan, even though that was the same man that had just wanted to shoot him.

At the same moment that sepia touched an unblinking green, the door burst open violently, the chair collapsing onto the floor loudly. Logan shouted curses and whirled around, his gun out of the holster in a split second, almost immediately shooting at the intruders.

"For fuck's sake, Julian—_jump!_" he bellowed, and Julian—so startled and terrified of the sudden shooting that had erupted in his kitchen—almost fell out of the window, landing on the wet grass underneath it with a sickening crash that drove all the air out of his longs.

From the window above of him, he heard a crackling shot and an anguished scream, and the next thing he knew, Logan was beside him, having landed smoothly in a crouch. The blond yanked Julian up by his arm and pulled him with him as they ran for their lives.

* * *

><p><strong>Past<strong>

**.**

A few days passed, and Julian never heard anything from Adam. It unsettled him, this sudden absence. Normally, Adam would call or text him every single day, never not letting anything hear from him. This sudden silence made him feel more uncomfortable, and it made him gaze over his shoulder more than a few times walking over streets.

It was a full week later that Adam suddenly showed up.

When Julian went to open the front door—expecting Derek who visited almost every day—he had to do a double take when his eyes fell on that familiar face, and he stumbled backwards in shock.

"Adam..." he breathed, fear jamming its sharp claws in his heart immediately.

The taller boy forced his way inside, a creepy smile painted on his lips, his eyes glistening with a madness that Julian recognized from a week ago.

"Adam, what are you doing here?" Julian asked quietly, entire posture betraying his wariness.

"Don't you want me here?" Adam tilted his head to the side, walking in the room, looking as if he was casually strolling through his own house. His dark eyes were captivating, and Julian's calculated sepia gaze couldn't escape them.

"No..." he said cautiously, carefully watching Adam's reactions like he was a snake about to strike. "I thought that was pretty obvious from what happened a week ago."

Adam's expression turned a tad sad when the actor said this, and Julian almost expected an apology, even a bit taken aback when that didn't came. Instead, Adam turned vicious again, turning his blazing eyes to the smaller boy as he nearly spat the words in his face. "That was _pure love_, Julian. I _can't_ believe you ran away from it! How _could _you?"

Two big steps and he was nose to nose with Julian, two pairs of brown eyes staring at each other—one pair painfully afraid, the other one smoldering with fury.

"How _could_ you ignore our love? How _could_ you be so _blind_ to it? While it's so _obvious_!" Adam grimaced, his madness once again shining through, and Julian wondered how he could've missed out on that before.

"Adam..."

"Our love outshines _everything_, Julian," Adam's eyes welled with tears of joy, his cheeks flushed in his thrilled excitement, his gestures wild and big. "It's brighter than the _sun!_ I love you so, so much. And you love me too! You know that."

He advanced on the actor, and Julian stepped back, moving further in the living room, not comfortable that Adam was now standing between the door—the only escape he had—and himself.

"Adam!" He was beginning to feel irritated now, and he wanted to break through in the boy's thoughts—but yet again, he was interrupted by a cry of joy.

"But I have figured it out, of course. I will always find ways to save our love."

Julian pressed his lips together and lifted his chin in the sort of stubborn fearlessness you'd expect from a 19-year-old. "You're sick... you have to _go away_, you need _help_."

His mood swings were faster and frequenter than those of a pregnant woman, and suddenly Adam was sweet again, eyes softening as they locked with Julian's. "No... I'm not sick," he smiled that charming smile that Julian recognized from the old, harmless, happy Adam. "You could call me _love-sick_, but other than that..."

Julian exhaled sharply, wondering where the fuck those bodyguards were if you needed them. He almost toppled over in shock when Adam reached in his back pocket and got out a gun, stroking his fingers over the metal, his expression happier than ever.

"We could both be in heaven... Julian... don't you understand? Everything is glorious in heaven... _We_ could be glorious in heaven. Don't you want that?"

Julian shook his head, wide-eyes glued to the gun in a fear so great it whirled through his body, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. He'd only been held under gunshot in _movies_, never would he have dreamt of the same scene happening in _reality_. He backed away slowly, but even though his apartment was rather big considering he lived in it alone, it was still too small to create enough space between him and the gun.

Adam's voice was warm and sincere as he spoke, eyes widening to display his honesty. "I'll protect you, Julian. Forever."

"You're—you're _sick_, Adam—please, _please_ stay away from me..."

Although the smile stayed, his entire posture changed in a heartbeat. Brown eyes sparkled menacingly, fingers clenched around his gun protectively. But the smile stayed—it always, _always_... stayed. "How can you _say_ that—I'll never walk away from you!"

It was the smile that would haunt Julian's dreams. Not the obsessive eyes, not the blood curling words, not the gunshot... It was the smile—that god-awful, creepy, fake smile.

The gunshot that followed rocked his world, and it took Julian a moment to orientate, to notice where it came from—not from Adam's weapon, not from the bodyguards that suddenly chose to appear, crowding through the front door that Adam had left open...

When Adam fell, it was Derek that stood behind him—his breaths ragged and irregular, his shaking hands holding a smoking gun, his brown eyes wide with utter shock.

A pool of dark red blood was slowly starting to spread over Julian's wooden floor, but the actor barely paid attention to it as Derek had dropped the gun and flew towards his friend, embracing him tightly.

"Are you alright?"

"H-how did you g-get a _gun_?" Julian stammered, having difficulty tearing his eyes away from the fallen Adam and to look at his friend in utter amazement.

Derek's eyes were glistening with unshed tears as he once again hugged his friend. "I stole it from one of those idiots," he inclined his head to the bodyguards, who were now calling an ambulance and inspecting the lifeless body on the floor. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Julian blinked, swallowing thickly. "Is he... Is he dead...?" his gaze touched Adam who was lying on the floor bleeding out.

Derek shivered before answering, and Julian realized that if Adam _was_ dead—if he was actually _dead_—that Derek would've killed him. He threw an arm around his friend, finally answering the hug.

"I'm alright, D. You came... you came just in time... thanks..."

Giving him a thin smile, Derek shrugged. "Anytime, Jules. Let's get out of here...?"

"Yes, please," Julian breathed, fear and a slight hysteria still tearing through his body. He tilted his head, resting it on Derek's shoulder as they slowly walked out of the room, leaving the bodyguards to deal with the mess. In the distance, they could hear the sirens of the ambulances and the police.

"The media will have a fucking field day with this," Derek murmured, voicing the exact same thoughts of the actor.

It was silent for a while as they stood outside, the fresh air an absolute relief after the stale, oppressive atmosphere inside.

"At least it's over, right?" Julian's voice trembled and broke, sounding hesitative and unsure. He glanced at the athlete as if searching for reassurance.

Derek nodded resolutely, voice hoarse as he agreed. "At least it's over."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, and I'd really, really like to hear your thoughts :) Reviews are like gold to me ;)<strong>

**Also, this Sunday I'm going to Paris, and I won't be back until Thursday next week. I won't be able to write anything, but I'll try to have the next chapter out as soon as possible, but you know, it could take a little while longer.**

**See you next time!**

**- Rose**


	8. On The Run

**Hi everyone! I am so, **_**so**_** sorry for the delay—seriously, **_**so**_** sorry :/ I have no excuses other than my complete lack of inspiration and motivation. I promise to have the next chapter out sooner.**

**Thank you for all your reviews, you have no idea how happy and giddy they all make me :) And thank you to Beth (misserg on Tumblr and on here) who's my beta for this story. Thank you for your work, you're amazing :)**

**Because it's been a while, I do want to recap a few things, so that we're all on the same page:**

**- Logan knows that Julian had a stalker in the past—he just doesn't know the details and he certainly doesn't know that the stalker was Adam Clavell.  
>- Julian doesn't know that Logan works for Adam Clavell.<br>- Adam Clavell knows Julian loves Logan, because of those letters he found.**

**Enjoy reading, lovelies :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8: On The Run<strong>

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><p><em>Last chapter:<em>

_From the window above of him, he heard a crackling shot and an anguished scream, and the next thing he knew, Logan was beside him, having landed smoothly in a crouch. The blond yanked Julian up by his arm and pulled him with as they ran for their lives._

_._

The grey clouds that gathered in the darkening sky, the cutting rain that was pouring down—it was nothing in comparison to the livid expression on Logan's face. His eyes were green flashes of lightning, their troubled depths brimming with a blazing, searing fury that frightened Julian.

Logan had grabbed one of Julian's wrists and his fingers were digging in the actor's skin as they ran through the deserted streets, their chests heaving, their breaths heavy and difficult, their legs forced to move until they were dead and lifeless—and still they ran on.

It was a dark and cold autumn day. Leaves, torn from their trees, were flying around in the wind, most of them landing on the muddy streets, being trampled on by the few people walking there. The wind was streaking through the sky, loud and cutting and freezing.

The first tinges of pink filtered through the dark clouds, introducing the falling night. Julian and Logan were soaked to the skin, their thin clothes clinging to their bodies, their hair dripping and plastered to their cheeks and foreheads.

They'd run for ages before Logan pushed the both of them into a narrow alley, yanking his hand from Julian's wrist and turning his back on him as he punched the concrete wall—the tight skin around his knuckles bursting open and spilling blood.

"Goddamnit," he growled between gasps of breath, and Julian's wide eyes followed him cautiously. "God-_fucking_-damnit." He turned around, using the wall as support as he closed his eyes and exhaled fiercely.

Julian's sneaker made a squeaky sound as he slowly took a few steps back—his eyes never leaving the blond who was leaning against the wall with a tired expression—his chest heaving as he tried to control his ragged breathing.

Green eyes flew open at the sound, but Logan made no other movement as he silently stared at the shivering actor, taking in the wide, sepia eyes that gazed up at him with fear and wariness. Pressing his lips in a tight line, the sniper tilted his head, ignoring the drenched strands of blond hair that dangled in his piercing eyes.

"You're cold," he stated quietly. There was no sympathy in his tone, but it wasn't emotionless either—he only seemed to say it to break the deafening silence.

Julian narrowed his eyes and shook his head, repressing another shiver. He glared at Logan vehemently, so many emotions whirling inside of him—fear, fury, horror, caution, everything—that it left him speechless. He was too stunned, too numb to say anything, so he continued to stare at the blond. He wished that he felt enough to at least scream at Logan. Or to punch him. _God_, he wanted to punch Logan so badly.

But the memory of the barrel staring him coldly in the face was still terribly fresh... and he was scared.

"I don't..." Julian's voice was hoarse and he had to clear his throat and try again. "I don't _understand_. You were..." he closed his eyes as the memories leaped at him—the barrel, dark, menacing, the dangerous green eyes, the sharp click of the gun as it was cocked... The mortal fear that had ripped through him viciously, determined to destroy everything inside of him.

Logan didn't feel the rain anymore, staring listlessly as Julian cringed.

When sepia eyes opened, they were smoldering with unknown emotions.

"You were going to _shoot_ me," Julian croaked, feeling sick to his stomach. "You were going to _shoot_ me." And only now did he realized that he could've been _dead_, only now did that horrible, terrible realization penetrate his mind and it twisted his heart in a tight, painful knot.

Logan rolled his eyes and snorted, gazing at Julian with a cold and emotionless expression. "I obviously _failed_ to do that, didn't I?" he sneered irritably. "So no need to be all dramatic."

Adrenaline shot through Julian's veins—all the fear, the shock and dread flooding away in a second—and instead of restless sepia, Julian's eyes were now a blazing, scorching-hot, darkest of brown. His fingers curled in tight fists and he rounded on Logan so fast, the blond shot backwards in surprise, the back of his head colliding painfully with the brick wall.

"_No need to be all dramatic?_" Julian repeated, his voice a dark, sharp hiss as he stood on his tiptoes to tower over Logan, his finger drilling in his chest as he spat out a stream of profanities. "You were going to _shoot_ me and you tell me _not to be dramatic?_" his words—practically screamed now—echoed through the alley, shooting over the loud noise of the rain, and Logan's eyes widened as he took in the furious actor.

"I could've been DEAD," Julian roared, his eyes narrowed to slits, his lips curled up in a feral snarl. "YOU COULD'VE KILLED ME!"

Logan leaped forwards, and in a movement as fast as a striking snake, he'd pinned Julian to the wall, a hand clasped firmly over his mouth. Julian struggled, furious and afraid again, but to no avail—Logan was too strong for him.

"Are you _trying_ to get us killed?" Logan hissed, his eyes darting through the alley, afraid someone might have heard them, afraid Clavell's men might have heard them. "Keep your fucking mouth shut or they'll find—"

He closed his eyes in aggravation as he was interrupted by the loud wail of sirens of police cars that rushed down the streets, passing by their dark alley with a backbreaking speed.

"Now you've done it," Logan growled, finally releasing Julian.

Julian scoffed and squinted to get a better view on Logan in the heavy rainfall. "What the hell is wrong with you, Logan? What the hell _happened_ to you? _Why_ were you trying to—" he fell quiet as realization dawned on him and Julian stood paralyzed for a few seconds, his eyes huge, his lips parted in absolute amazement.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he breathed, almost afraid to hear the answer, his voice so soft that Logan had to lean in to hear him properly. "That time... when I almost got shot... that was you, wasn't it?"

Logan's heart grew cold as he watched the utterly stunned expression adorning Julian's face—but he covered it up with a roll of his eyes, and he rubbed his face, absolutely done with this conversation. "Listen, Julian, we have to _move_. Those people who want you dead—it's not _me_ you've got to worry about, okay? Not anymore, at least. But those people—they want us dead, and they're going to follow us, and they're _good_ at tracking people."

"Why should I trust _you_?" Julian bristled.

"Because I'm the only one you've got right now!" Logan hissed, trying not to scream, but feeling like he _should_ just to cram the information in the stubborn actor's head. "For fuck's sake, you jumped out of a window when I asked you, why won't you just trust me now?"

"_You tried to fucking kill me!_"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Logan growled as he moved forward yet again, his hand clashing painfully with Julian's teeth when he clasped it in front of his mouth. "Shut _up_, do you _want_ them to find us?"

Julian mumbled something unintelligible against the palm of Logan's hand, and he roughly shook the blond off. "Fine—since _you_ got me into this mess—"

"Trust me," Logan muttered fiercely. "You'd have gotten into a bigger mess if it hadn't been _me_ he hired."

"What? What do you mean? You're _hired_? What the—"

"_Please_, Julian. What motive could I possibly have to _shoot_ you?" Logan asked him, completely aggravated. "I don't even fucking _know _you! I'm just a hired sniper."

"You actually get _paid_ for shooting me?"

"Yes. But, obviously, I'm a miserable mess who can't even shoot you even though you're only a foot away and completely vulnerable."

"You can't...?" Julian raised his eyebrows, leaning back to gaze at the blond skeptically.

Logan scowled, his eyes glistening madly as he clenched his jaw. "No—_obviously—_I can't. But if he'd hired someone else, you'd probably be dead by now, so trust me and just do what I say already."

"Wait—who's 'he'?" Julian asked, confused and uncertain as Logan grabbed his elbow and yanked him forward.

"C'mon, we have to move. And you wouldn't know him. He's just some asshole who wants you dead. No idea why, I just kind of went with it."

"You kind of—but _why_ would someone want me _dead_?" the actor was dead-scared now, and it showed as Logan dragged him forth, nearly carrying Julian as his legs didn't seem to work anymore.

"Like I said, I have no fucking clue—now, would you _move_ already?" Logan muttered an inaudible curse. "I'm glad it's raining at least—it'll be harder to spot us. Or to aim."

"Aim...?"

"Yeah, with guns, you have to aim."

The sarcasm in Logan's voice went unnoticed to Julian, who gripped his hair in desperation. "_Jesus_. This is fucking crazy, what the hell happened...?"

Logan smirked darkly, peering through the rain as he carefully chose his way through the narrow alleys. "Welcome to my world."

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><p>The rain was still steadily falling from the black clouds, and the two boys were mere shadows as they crept through the streets, alert for every movement, every light, every sound. The moon was gone and the streetlights were fervently cursed by Logan, who'd been happy with the absence of the moon, but who'd turned vicious by the sight of the street lanterns.<p>

"Where are we going, Logan?" Julian hissed, annoyed and freezing as they stalked through the night—hugging his body as he tried to get warm.

"To my place."

Puzzled, Julian whipped his head around, staring at the blond. "Why? Isn't it kind of obvious that we'll go there? Won't they find us?"

"Yes, it _will_ be obvious," Logan retorted impatiently, temper flaring up again. "But I don't really care, because I need some stuff and my place is the only one where I can get that stuff."

Julian opened his mouth to reply, but Logan inhaled sharply all of a sudden and pushed the both of them behind a car.

"What the hell—"

"Shut up," Logan hissed, his bright green eyes staring intently at one of the small houses. "There is someone knocking on my front door—_shit_."

"What?" Julian lifted his head and peeked through the window of the black Mercedes. He scoffed when he took in the scene and shook his head in irritation. "That is _Derek_, you _idiot_."

It _was_ Derek, and he was frantically pounding on the door, yelling for someone to open it. Logan breathed in relief, recognizing his old high school friend, and he crawled from behind the car, grabbing Julian's sleeve and tugging him with along.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Logan asked confused, as they ran over the street, staying as much in the shadows as they could.

Julian gazed up at the house—which wasn't big, but was still a _house_—and he shook his head in bewilderment, distracted for a small moment. "You have a whole house for you alone...? That is so..._ you_, Your Majesty."

"Oh, ha ha," Logan sneered. "You're so hilarious."

The rain was still relentlessly beating down on them when they caught up with Derek, who was just as soaked as they were. The athlete turned around with wide eyes when he heard them arriving and he immediately dashed to Julian.

"Jules! Are you okay? Are you hurt? _Jesus Christ_," he pulled the shocked actor in a tight embrace and Julian, not really sure what was happening, patted him awkwardly on his back.

"Ehm... D? Are you alright...? Derek—what are you doing?" Julian asked, completely confused as Derek continued to hug him. He gazed at Logan from his peripheral vision and as he'd expected, the blond sniper was looking at them in annoyance, not wanting this reunion to mess up their time schedule.

"Derek!"

At last, Derek pulled away, but his hands were still gripping Julian's shoulders and his eyes were huge and scared and sad.

"Carmen's dead," he choked out bluntly, and the words hit Julian square in the chest. He would've stumbled backwards if it weren't for Derek, who was holding him tightly, looking him straight in the eyes.

"What...?" Julian breathed, his voice trembling. He heard Logan curse vehemently and the metallic clatter of keys shattered the silence. "Derek..."

Derek swallowed and shut his eyes, the horrible images flying through his mind all over again. "It was... she was... I went to visit you, and I drove to your apartment—but when... when I entered the building—" he broke off, his hands shaking as his fingers dug into Julian's wet clothes. "She was _bleeding_ so much. She was lying on the stairs—and_ god_, the _blood_—and—and—it looked like she was _shot_, Jules! Who would _do_ that? Who would shoot _Carmen_—I... I called the cops..."

He was almost in tears by now and it was a strange sight to see the usually composed athlete so distressed and confused. Julian—actions mechanical, feeling drained and exhausted—gathered his best friend in another hug.

Time had stopped. The world had stopped turning.

Because this was not happening.

This could _not_ be happening.

Carmen had been like his second mother—always there to help, always there to sort out his mess...

These kind of things only happened in movies and in books... These kind of things only happened to him when he was playing someone else... It didn't happen to _him_—not to Julian Larson.

Logan coughed and it effectively broke the silence, shattering the numbness that was holding Julian in its grasp.

"Guys—I don't want to be rude and destroy this touchy moment—but we've got to move, okay?" he snapped, briskly stroking his soaked hair out of his face. "Carmen's already dead and if you don't want to join her, we have to _go_."

Derek, who was still holding onto the actor, turned around to face Logan. "There was blood in the kitchen, too. Did you—"

Logan sighed impatiently, motioning with his key to his house. "Let's get inside, change into some dry clothes and talk about this later, okay?" He received a withering glare from Julian, but he didn't pay further attention to it as he raised his eyebrows defiantly and stalked into his house.

"Are you okay?" Derek asked before they followed Logan, his gaze fixed on his friend, terrified of the current situation. "I don't understand, Jules, what's happening?"

"There's—" Julian cleared his throat, leveling his stare to the muddy ground and as he looked up again he was blinded by the rain for a moment. "There's this person—who wants me dead—"

"_What_?" Derek hissed.

Julian wanted to tell him what Logan had done, that Logan had held a gun, that _Logan_ had aimed a gun at _him_... that Logan had almost pulled the trigger... But it wasn't the right time nor the right place, and Julian sighed wearily, running his hands through his wet hair.

"Let's go inside," he muttered, nudging Derek's shoulder as he moved to walk in the small house.

Logan was a hurricane as he darted from closet to closet, trying to fill a bag with more weapons than Derek and Julian had ever seen, leaving the two best friends absolutely astounded as they watched the blond pack hastily.

"Jesus, Logan, when did you get all of these?" Derek asked breathlessly, his eyes glued to one of the many guns.

Logan ignored him, snatching some clothes out of a closet and throwing them to the two other men. "Here, change into some dry clothes."

But Derek shook his head. "I have my own clothes in my car, I was planning on sleeping at Jules' place before... well... this," he gestured loosely in the air, expression devastated.

"Fine, get your clothes now. Julian—you change into these," Logan urged impatiently, gesturing to the heap of clothes on the floor.

Julian nodded stiffly, wiping the rain off his face, and picked them up slowly. "Do you have a towel?"

Logan rolled his eyes. "Of course I have a towel," he grabbed one and threw it towards the brunet who didn't catch it, because he was watching as Derek walked out of the house to pick up his dry clothes from his car.

"Julian," Logan snapped his fingers. "A little tempo, okay?"

The actor sighed and rubbed his face forcefully, before stripping out of his clothes and trying to dry his body as well as he could, honestly not giving a damn about privacy at this point. There was an odd gleam in Logan's eyes as he watched Julian change in front of him and the blond stopped with what he was doing for a moment.

"Did you tell Derek?" he asked, and Julian looked up in surprise at his subdued tone.

"No, I didn't. Not yet, at least. I'm going to tell him later," there was a sharpness in the actor's words—an edge that warned Logan not to challenge him this time, warning Logan that Julian _would_ tell Derek everything.

Logan nodded, feeling a strangely warm tug on his heart as Julian pulled his sweatshirt over his head, the baggy shirt falling over his hips and his fingertips. The actor made a face at it.

"It's too big."

Huffing derisively, Logan tore his eyes away from the actor—who was now only wearing Logan's sweatshirt—and waved in the air irritably. "You'll have to live with it, Princess, I'm sorry my clothes don't live up to your expectations."

Julian cursed silently, stepping into the baggy jeans. "Oh, shut up, you asshole," he snapped, just as Derek came walking back, his hair dripping with fresh raindrops.

"Could you two stop fighting, please?" he asked exasperated, dropping his soaked bag onto the ground and crossing his arms sternly as he took in his two friends. "Tell me what's going on."

"Derek—" Julian hesitated, turning around to look at him with a pleading expression.

"No, Jules," Derek retorted angrily, "Carmen is _dead_—" Julian flinched, "—there was _blood_ in your kitchen, Logan has suddenly an arsenal of weapons, and _you_ look like you've seen a ghost! What the fuck is going on?"

Logan and Julian looked at each other and after a few moments of silent consideration, Logan sighed and shook his head in surrender. The sniper spread his arms and shook his hands, droplets flying everywhere.

"We'll talk about it when we're in dry clothes and moving away from this place," he muttered reluctantly, and when Derek narrowed his eyes at him, he added, "I _promise_."

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><p>Dark eyes narrowed as Clavell slowly walked through Julian's apartment. The police cars in which he and his men had arrived were parked messily outside and his people were standing around them, showing every sign of investigating the matter, showing every sign of being actual cops...<p>

...even when they weren't.

But he'd lost one.

One of his most reliable men. Killed by none other than _Logan Wright_.

Snarling, Clavell kicked a table and it crashed to the floor with a resounding noise. He paced through the rooms, his hands tugging on his hair in anger and frustration. They'd been _so_ close. So damned close. But everything had fallen apart with one act of disobedience.

He yanked a closet open, trailing his fingers over his Julian's clothes. He swore he could smell that distinctive aroma of the actor right now, filling his nostrils and calming him down. He smiled sadly, imagining those beautiful sepia eyes that had always stared up at him with so much friendship so many years ago.

So many years ago...

It had been too long...

It was time for them to be together. Forever. Unconsciously, Clavell raked his hand over the bag hanging from his shoulder, the weapons hidden inside rattling quietly.

His heart clenched harshly as he thought about killing Julian, about murdering _his_ Julian. But he simply _had_ to. He had to... in order for them to be together. And even though the simple thought of hurting Julian made bitter bile rise up, he knew—he _knew_—that he had to do this, that he had to carry out this one, last, horrible deed.

They had to be happy together.

Clavell turned around and when he looked up, he saw a glance of his own reflection in the mirror. He smirked as his black eyes twinkled madly. Then he wheeled around resolutely and walked out of Julian's apartment, a feeling of excitement surging through him.

He was ready to continue living in the next world.

It would be a hell of a lot more happy than here.

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><p><strong>Thank you so much for reading and for having patience with me through the slight delay. I'll have the next chapter out as soon as possible, but in the meantime, please let me hear your thoughts. Reviews are like cookies to me ;) And, to be honest, it would be awesome if I could reach the 50 review-count, something I never had before :P<strong>

**See you the next time!**

**- Rose**


	9. Storm's Coming

**Hi guys! :) **Thank you so much for your reviews for the last chapter, they mean the world to me! :D****

**So I hope you've all calmed down a bit from the tears and chaos and utter horror that happened in the last Dalton episode... even though I know I haven't fully calmed down yet :/ This chapter of Gunsight is the last relatively calm one; you could say this is the calm before the storm. With all the terrible things that are happening in Dalton right now, I'm actually a bit reluctant to write further, but I don't really have a choice (do you still remember Julian's preface?)**

**A _huge_ shout out to my wonderful beta: Beth (misserg on here and Tumblr) without who this chapter would be absolutely messy in its grammar and everything ;) Thank you, Beth, you're brilliant! :)**

**I don't own anything except the plot, all recognizable characters belong to CP Coulter.**

**Anyway, I'll stop talking now, and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9: Storm's Coming<strong>

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><p>Derek's fist hit Logan's cheek with a loud smack, the force of the blow whipping the blond's head to the side, his neck actually cracking slightly from the power behind the punch. Cursing vehemently, Logan grabbed his cheek, glaring at his so-called friend who'd narrowed his eyes at him in anger. Derek pulled his arm back, fully intending to hit again, but suddenly Julian was there; yelling as he grabbed Derek's arm and pulled his friend back.<p>

"Okay, that's _enough_!" the actor hissed, glaring at his two friends, adrenaline racing through his body.

"What the fuck, Derek!" Logan spat, still clutching his cheek, green eyes actually tearing up with pain. "God _damn _it—that _hurt_!"

"Good for _fucking_ you, Logan!" Derek yelled, his eyes glinting furiously as he yanked his arm from Julian's grasp. "How fucking _dare_ you shoot Julian? What the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

"I didn't actually shoot him, okay?" Logan screamed back, his cheek bright red as he spread his arms in frustration. Julian raised his eyebrows at his outburst, stomach twisting as he finally saw a flicker of the 'old' Logan—the Logan in high school, who hadn't always been so strangely composed and calculated, who'd hit back instantly when hit himself. "I _couldn't_ shoot him—I fucking _couldn't _and I don't know _why _and now I'm stuck with _you_ _guys_ and I don't know what to _do_!"

Julian looked on darkly as Logan and Derek continued fighting, his arms crossed, his fingers fidgeting with some loose threads that were hanging from Logan's too big sweater. The dark shadows under his eyes showed his exhaustion and his lips were pulled down in worry and fear—his friends didn't make this any better.

Although... his friends?

He couldn't really call Logan a friend anymore... could he? Not after everything that had happened... Not after the blond sniper had wanted to shoot him... It was all so complicated—when did it all get so complicated...?

Sepia eyes glanced at Logan and Julian's heart tugged in silent hurt as Derek shoved the taller man backwards in fury at something the blond had said. Julian exhaled slowly as the last few days played through his mind for the hundredth time, still trying to comprehend what had all transpired, still trying to place it somewhere.

The day Carmen got shot, the day his whole world had been turned upside down, had only been a few days ago.

After they had changed into dry and warm clothes, the three had grabbed their bags and had gotten into Logan's car. They'd driven for days and had only stopped when Logan had been sure they were far enough away from the danger that was surely chasing them. In the middle of the night, he'd turned the car onto a deserted road, pitch black with the lack of street lanterns, and he'd purposefully drove until they'd reached an old, abandoned farm. Julian and Derek didn't know how Logan was familiar with this place, but they'd gladly taken their refuge in the old house that was at least warmer than outside.

Derek had insisted they tell him everything, and after a little hesitation from Julian's side and a _huge_ reluctance from Logan's side, they'd told him the whole story. How someone wanted Julian dead for unknown reasons, how that someone had hired Logan to take the shot, how Logan had tried _two_ times, but had never succeeded.

Derek had simply exploded—not even calming down when Julian had hastily explained to him that Logan had saved Julian's life by refusing to shoot and killing one of those fake policemen.

And it was here—in this old living room of the broken house on the farm—where the infamous trio found themselves now; two of them fighting, the third looking on with a tense and aggravated expression.

"You're such an _asshole_, Logan!" Derek snapped, who'd already been tremendously overwhelmed by their current situation, but who'd absolutely lost it with this new, shocking revelation. "You've always been! You were a tactless bastard back at Dalton, but you've never changed! How could you _do_ this?"

Logan practically growled and it was only with a huge effort that he kept himself from lunging at the athlete. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but was interrupted by Julian, who'd finally had enough. The actor sighed irritably as he took one step towards his two friends.

"Guys_—"_

"_What?_" Logan and Derek looked around at once—both their expressions deeply annoyed and absolutely livid.

Julian stopped walking and scowled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Keep it calm, you _idiots_."

Derek pressed his lips together in a tight line and he turned towards his best friend, pointing to Logan angrily. "_He_ tried to _kill_ you, Julian!"

"And he also saved my guts back there," Julian snapped back, sighing and rubbing his face in exhaustion. "Listen guys—I'm dead tired, we've been driving around for _days_! And I don't know about you, but I'm _drained_. So if you two could just _stop_ your little bitch fight, that would be _great_. Let's sleep now, and you can continue to kill each other later—tomorrow or something. I _really_ couldn't care less at this point. Sound like a plan?"

Logan snorted and turned around to look at Derek, raising his eyebrows defiantly. Derek was not amused and he narrowed his eyes at Julian.

"Are you freaking serious, Julian?"

"Listen, Derek! It happened, okay? I don't want to talk about it anymore—I don't want to _think_ about it anymore! I just—" Even though he tried his hardest to uphold the pretence that everything was going to be alright—it was still obvious that he was starting to break down, and Derek's gaze softened when he noticed it.

"Jules—"

"Someone—" the actor's voice almost cracked and he closed his eyes as he tried again. "Someone tried to _kill_ me, someone _wants_ me dead! And I don't know why or how, but—but I know that I'm tired of all of this, and if I don't get any sleep real soon, I'm going to _maim_ something, okay?" Julian's usual haughty composure was showing breaches and he knew this very well, utterly _hated_ it—but right now, he just wanted to close his eyes and escape all this madness. Even if it only was for the night. Even if it only was for a short moment.

There was a long moment of loaded silence, filled with tension and hate and an unbridled fear for the future.

Logan was the first to break the quiet, and he ignored Derek's furious stare as he patted the gun on his hip and walked toward the largest window in the dusty living room. "I'll keep the first watch, you guys sleep."

* * *

><p>The moon was gone for the night and while Logan sat by one of the windows, he looked out over a deserted road and the few, ancient buildings that were still standing on the farm. The feeling of desolation constricted his heart, pressing tightly upon his chest, accompanied by utter loneliness and the conviction of being a complete failure.<p>

If he'd just finished his job, if he'd just..._ pulled_ that damn trigger a week ago... he would've been free by now. He would've collected his money and be _free_.

Logan raked his hands through his hair, his bright eyes fluttering close for a few seconds as he tried to analyze his feelings.

He frowned.

Feelings...?

His heart stuttered for the longest moment and when it finally recovered, its beats were painfully quick, hitting his ribcage in rapid succession. Logan's eyes flew open and he cursed as he dragged his hands over his face.

His medication—

—in his pocket... still in his wet jeans that he'd stripped out of on that rainy day when they'd had to run and be quick and hasty... disregarded in a corner of his house.

_Fuck_.

No, no, no, _no—!_

He groaned, doubling over and pressing the palms of his hands against his forehead.

He'd always been a better sniper when he was _on_ the damned medication—more focused, more concentrated, cold-blooded, not distracted by emotions...

Although he utterly, thoroughly _hated_ to take the meds; the fact that he would not have his pills during this chaos was only making things more complicated—and he didn't need things to be more complicated than they already were...

He kept silent for a long time, trying to digest this sudden, unwanted information and convincing himself that he didn't need the pills to make him a good sniper. That he was already good enough, that he'd taken out that Lillian-girl without them, that he'd taken out _lots_ of people without them—

—and he tried to ignore the fact that none of those people had been like Clavell, none of those people had been as experienced, trained, murderous and focused as Clavell...

Lost as he was in his thoughts—Logan jumped up when he heard a stifled moan and he whirled around, his gun ready in his hand as he spied into the darkness of the room. The only thing that moved though was one of the two shadows curled up on the floor.

Derek was still snoring lightly as Julian sat up—and even in the darkness, Logan could see his wide, scared eyes blinking up at him. They stared at each other for a while, before the blond sighed and half-grudgingly patted the space next to him.

"Couldn't sleep?" Logan whispered as Julian kneeled silently besides him.

The actor snorted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stared out of the window. He shot Logan a scathing look.

"It's sort of difficult to sleep when you know that there's some psycho out there that wants to kill you and the only person awake in this house is the man who had his gun aimed at you not too long ago."

One of Logan's mouth corners twitched up, but he stayed silent, not about to argue that logic.

"Are you okay, though?"

Julian raised his eyebrows, throwing him an incredulous look. "Are you asking about my wellbeing, Your Majesty? I am so honored that you care."

"I have a gun in my hand, Princess," Logan sneered with only a small spark of humor, "don't tempt me."

Making a face, Julian shook his head. "That's just rude."

"Too soon?"

"You were planning on killing me barely a week ago—I'd say it's too soon, yeah."

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the fear that held both of their hearts in its iron grasp, or maybe it was just out of seeking and granting forgiveness—but Logan casually wrapped an arm around Julian's shoulders and the actor leaned into his touch almost gratefully, resting his head on the blond's shoulder and relaxing in the one-armed embrace.

It was almost like old times.

"It's all so messed up," Julian whispered suddenly, arrogance gone for the moment and vulnerable for once. "It's like I'm living in a constant nightmare."

"Yeah... I know that feeling," Logan muttered, eyes still examining the darkness outside, alert for every movement and shadow.

"I mean... Carmen... Carmen is _dead_," Julian choked with a deep frown. "Why? Why would they shoot her...? She's never done anything wrong..."

Logan shrugged listlessly. "It's not a matter of doing something wrong. I guess she got in the way. Wrong time, wrong place, and all that," he answered quietly, not realizing how cold his own voice sounded and not seeing the horrified look Julian threw his way.

Julian pressed his lips together, shaking his head. "She was—she was like a mother to me, you know? She was... just always _there_. And now... she's not. And I—I don't... I don't know how to deal with this."

Logan stayed silent, but Julian had expected this; the blond sniper wasn't really the person that could give someone advice on feelings.

The actor sighed and he shifted a bit so he could look up at Logan. "Are you ever going to tell us what happened to you?"

Logan frowned, but did not turn to look at the actor. "What do you mean?"

"Logan, last time I saw you, you were no sniper. When in the world did you turn into an _assassin_?" Julian lifted his head from Logan's shoulder to stare at him with curious, sepia eyes. "What happened?"

"Well, the meds—"

"_Except_ for the stupid meds. What else happened?"

Logan opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words and failing miserably. He exhaled a trembling sigh and shook his head. "I can't... I can't tell you."

Julian frowned, letting his head fall back on Logan's shoulder. He'd been dreaming about this for so many years—touching Logan, being comfortable with Logan, hugged by Logan... but now, once they'd finally reached that point... he barely felt any butterflies and he didn't feel any different except for maybe a bit calmer. It felt... surreal. Like it was all a dream and once the sun would rise, the two of them would break apart and the moment would be all forgotten.

"Why can't you tell me?" Julian murmured, feeling tired, but not wanting to break this magical spell he found himself in.

"Because."

Julian snorted. "Such a _valid_ reason, Majesty. Really, such flawless argumentation."

"Shut _up_," Logan snarled, stiffening as he narrowed his eyes in irritation. Next to him, Julian held perfectly still, fearing the blond might withdraw his arm and push him away if he moved wrong. "I don't want to talk about it."

There was a tiny trace of vulnerability in Logan's voice and Julian's expression softened considerably. "Why don't you want to talk about it?"

Logan scoffed, staring out of the window with eyes that didn't see the present but were lingering on the past. He didn't say anything for a couple of minutes and Julian accepted the silence easily, relaxing against the blond's side, his eyelids drooping a little as he felt sleep set in.

"It hurts."

His voice was almost a whisper, a ghosting breath in the night, and Julian first thought that he'd dreamed it—but then Logan exhaled a shaky breath, and the actor knew he'd heard it right.

"Why?"

Logan shifted a bit and he blinked, focusing back on the world outside of the window, remembering he was supposed to stand on watch.

"I can't—I can't remember all of it," he muttered, and Julian was almost surprised that he was actually answering truthfully. But then he remembered Dalton, and how Logan had always been so blunt in his honesty—tactless, mostly, but always honest.

Logan continued with a soft voice. "And I hate that. I _hate_ that I can't remember. Despite what other people seem to think—I don't _like_ to try remembering and find out that there are gaping holes in my memory. Maybe I used to have good friends, maybe I used to be happy and all that—but I don't _remember_ and I will _never_ remember. So what's the point of thinking about it? What's the point of talking about it? I live in the present. Not in the past."

His tone was biting and it was obvious he was hurting over everything he'd lost—even though he didn't remember _what_ it was that he'd lost. People, memories, relationships... all gone, destroyed by the medication he'd taken for years.

"Why do you take your meds now?" Julian asked suddenly, either not aware of the withering glare Logan bestowed upon him or not really caring. "I mean, when you lost so much due to the last meds—why in the world would you take _these_?"

Logan's voice was ice and ice cold, the edges as sharp as razors and as burning as hellfire when he answered.

"Because I have nothing left to lose."

Julian scowled, but he didn't respond and he didn't press for more information. Deep in thought, he unconsciously snuggled closer to Logan, stifling a yawn as he shifted to get more comfortable. "Thanks, Lo."

Logan raised his eyebrows at the nickname, but he didn't protest. "For what?"

"For telling me," Julian whispered sleepily.

"Why would you thank me for that?" Logan asked with a dark laugh.

But Julian didn't answer and when Logan looked around, he saw that the actor's eyes were gently closed and that his lips were parted in relaxation, his soft breaths brushing over Logan's neck.

The sniper snorted derisively, but he didn't move as he adverted his eyes back to outside, his arm still securely around the exhausted brunet, having no intention of letting go.

* * *

><p>Derek awoke with a groan and he rolled over, trying to ignore the strain on his muscles from lying on the floor the entire night. Sunlight poured in from the one open window, poking him in the eyes, and he scrunched them shut for a moment. Sitting up, he carefully blinked as he let his eyes adjust to the morning sun. His heart jumped when he saw his two friends by the window and he frowned, the fight with Logan yesterday still fresh on his mind. He noticed the way they sat—Logan supporting Julian as the actor leaned against his side, sleeping peacefully for the first time in <em>days<em>—and realized Julian had obviously forgiven Logan.

He got up, silently making his way toward Logan, dropping down beside the blond.

"You didn't wake me up last night, Lo. Did you get _any_ sleep?" Derek asked.

Logan shook his head, eyes bright as ever as he stared outside. "Nah. I figured you guys needed the rest more than I did."

Surprised, Derek raised an eyebrow. "That is... uncharacteristically nice of you..."

Logan scoffed, tearing his stare away from the farm and looking at the athlete coldly. "Thanks so much, Derek."

Derek narrowed his eyes, his gaze shifting away from Logan as he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Look, Logan, about yesterday—"

Logan held one hand up, silencing Derek quickly. "No. No way. I'm not going to do the whole touchy-feeling talk with you, okay? Last night was bad enough with Julian. Let's just forget about it._ Please_."

Derek snickered, taking Logan's outstretched hand and shaking it roughly. "But just so you know—ever pull such a trick again and you're dead."

Green eyes stared at him skeptically and Logan shrugged carelessly. He knew who'd win in a fight. "Duly noted," he replied sarcastically.

The athlete leaned back on his hands, glancing at Julian, who was still fast asleep on Logan's shoulder. "So... what _did_ happen last night?"

Logan shrugged again, careful to not wake the actor up. "Nothing happened. We just talked about the mess we're in now. He had trouble sleeping."

Derek raised his eyebrows and smirked as he stared at the brunet. "Hm. I see you solved _that_ problem well..."

"Shut up, Derek," Logan snapped and he withdrew his arm, effectively waking Julian, who collapsed onto the floor without the support.

"Hm—what?" Julian startled awake and he yawned widely as he stretched out like a cat. He sat up, looking at his two friends in slight confusion. "What's going on—?"

Derek grinned at him and his voice was saccharine sweet as he asked, "Good morning to you, too, sunshine. And Jules—how'd _you_ sleep last night? With Logan and all that?"

That statement woke him up more than anything else could and Julian gave his best friend a warning glare behind Logan's back, making a slashing movement over his throat as Derek continued to stare innocently at him.

"Didn't you two have something to kill each other over?" the actor snapped irritably, just as his phone buzzed loudly. He retrieved it from his pocket, glancing at the ID and sighing as he recognized it. He stood up, gesturing to his phone. "One minute, I have to take this. It's Clark."

As he walked away, he whacked Derek's head hard just for good measure, warning Derek with a dark glare not to blab about anything. "I will call every ex and girlfriend you have going around if you talk, Siegerson," he hissed sharply.

"What was that about?" Logan asked, half-amused as he watched Derek rub the back of his head.

"Nothing," Derek muttered, raising his voice as he added, "just Julian being his prissy diva-self again." Julian glared over his shoulder and poked out his tongue, before he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him with a loud slam.

Standing in the old hallway, Julian pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hi Clark."

"Julian!" Clark exclaimed, and he didn't take long to flood the stunned actor with a waterfall of words. "What the hell happened? Your name is _all over_ the freaking tabloids! They're talking about you being on the run, you being dead, you being a freaking _criminal_. Here, wait, I have today's newspaper: 'Julian Larson, celebrated movie star, has been seen on the run from the police today. He's been seen shooting at them, actually hurt—"

"Oh my god, Clark—you actually _believe_ that?" Julian interrupted him angrily, his free hand trailing over the battered walls as he wandered further in the dark house.

"I don't know what to believe anymore, J!_ Carmen_ is _dead_—did you know that? They found her on the stairs at your apartment, where, by the way, a lot of _blood_ was found too—care to explain that one? And you are _gone_, Julian. Where the hell are you? What happened?"

"—Clark—"

"I've tried to call you at least ten times, Cam tried to call you— but you never answered and we're worried out of our _minds_, and fuck, we just lost Marcia—we can't lose you too! _Where are you?_ What the hell is _happening_? Why is Carmen dead? Why was there a _crime scene_ at your place? Why are you gone? _Where the fuck are you—?_"

Julian stopped walking, leaning against an old, tattered wall as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in growing aggravation. He let Clark rage until he was out of breath and when there was nothing left to hear but the popstar's heavy panting, Julian exhaled sharply.

"Done now?"

"Where are you, Julian? The tabloids are already discussing your fucking _death_! Have you any idea how freaked out I was when I read about you being _dead_?"

"Yes, yes, I know—"

"No, you don't! Tell me where you are!"

"If you'd just let me _talk_ for one moment!" Julian spat out, annoyed and frustrated because he knew he couldn't tell Clark everything. "I'm with Derek and Logan, and I'm _fine_. I'm very much alive and I intent to _stay_ that way. I'm not hurt, I'm just somewhere with my friends."

"But what are you doing? Carmen is d—"

"I _know_ Carmen is dead!" Julian yelled, tears pricking behind his eyes as he rested his head against the wall. "I _know_ that, Clark—" he took a deep breath, trying to control those raging emotions inside. "Everything's going to be alright, okay? Just don't believe the freaking tabloids and, _please_, don't call me again, okay? I just... need some space."

"Julian—"

"_Clark_—"

"C'mon, J..."

"Clark—for once in your life—please trust me on this one, okay?" Julian had walked to a window and as he was staring outside, he thought he saw a cloud of dust on the road. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to see better, but it was too far away to get a clear view.

Unaware of Julian's current occupation, Clark continued his plea. "Come back, Julian."

"Why are you so concerned anyway, St. Clark?" Julian asked, pretending to be amused even though his heart started racing watching the cloud of dust. It seemed to move closer...

"Because you're an idiot who can't take care of himself."

Julian scoffed, ripping the old dusty curtain from the rails and throwing it on the ground, wiping the window as clean as he could with his sleeve. He pressed his face against the dirty glass, wondering... The cloud of dust was _definitely_ moving closer. "I can take care of myself perfectly, thank you very much."

"Yeah, you just _don't_. I haven't forgotten about that time years ago, with the cigarettes and the extreme weight-loss," Clark stated dryly. "Come home, Julian. We'll take care of whatever it is."

Julian's eyes widened as the sun fell exactly right, its beams shimmering off shining metal, and he could see the sharp outline of cars through the dust. He could barely hide his panic as he clenched the phone tighter. "Listen, Clark—I have to go—"

"Julian!"

"Clark, I _really_ have to go," Julian choked and he was already running back to Derek and Logan. "I'll see you later, okay? Bye!" And before Clark could say anything else, Julian had ended the call and he was rushing back to Logan and Derek.

* * *

><p>Derek and Logan were in a deep, serious conversation—both looking concentrated and focused as Logan's brows crossed at something Derek confided him... but their last sentences got brutally cut off when Julian burst in—the ancient door falling off its hinges and crashing to the floor—the actor panting as he stopped in front of his two best friends.<p>

The two startled and looked up at once, Derek staring at Julian in complete surprise and shock, Logan's expression more composed as if he'd expected this to happen. The blond's hand went immediately to his gun and his sharp gaze was calculated as he took in the distressed brunet.

Julian's eyes were wide with fear, his breath trembling as he tried to remain composure, but he pointed to where he came from with a shaking finger, his words cutting through the thick silence that had fallen between the trio.

"They're here."

Derek's expression turned into one of utter horror, but Logan was already moving; leaping up and flying to his bag—and time seemed to slow down as Julian let out a shaky breath.

"They've found us."

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading! Don't forget to leave your thoughts, I appreciate them so much and they make me write faster ;)<strong>

**See you the next time :)**

**- Rose**


	10. Hunted

**Hi everyone :) First of all: thank you for your reviews! They're so encouraging and I love you for leaving me your thoughts, you have no idea how happy it makes me when I see that someone has left a review! :) **

**I know it's been a while since the last update and I'm sorry for that... my school is starting again and in two weeks, my internship and sport will start too. I won't have a lot of time to write and I'll try to get the chapters out as soon as possible, but I can't really promise anything... Sorry :/ **

**I had to split this chapter in two, because it was getting really long. This does mean that chapter 11 is as good as finished, so I'll reread and edit that in the next few days and then I'll send it to my beta :)**

**A _huge_ thank you to Beth (misserg) who betas this story and is absolutely, completely amazing :D I love you, sweetheart, thank you so much for everything you do :D**

**Warning: There's violence in this chapter and the next chapter will be worse. So yeah. If you don't like that you should probably don't read this, but I guess you wouldn't read a story named "Gunsight" if you can't stand blood and violence :P**

**Disclaimer: All the characters belong to CP Coulter, only the plot is mine ;)**

**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: Hunted<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Last chapter:<em>

"_They're here."_

_Derek's expression turned into one of utter horror, but Logan was already moving; leaping up and flying to his bag—and time seemed to slow down as Julian let out a shaky breath._

"_They've found us."_

**.**

The sun was just starting to come up and it was peaking through the filthy windows, its beams pouring down on the three panicking boys, making the whole scene seem a lot sunnier than it actually was. Julian raked his hands through his hair, his eyes huge as he watched Derek and Logan move through the room.

"What are we going to do?"

Logan grunted a curse and he zipped his bag open, reaching inside and pulling out a couple of guns. He threw one to Derek, who caught it in surprise, and handed another one to Julian, green eyes looking doubtful as the actor grabbed it without hesitation.

"Do you two even know how to shoot?" the sniper asked urgently, slinging the bag over his shoulder and hooking some of his guns to his belt. The sunlight was playing in his hair and it looked more golden than the sun itself at the moment. Logan's silhouette—his broad shoulders, his muscled arms, his long legs—was sharply outlined as he stood in front of the window, and Julian found it difficult to look away.

Logan noticed the actor's preoccupation and when he normally would've made a cocky comment, he got annoyed now. They didn't have time for things like this and Logan snapped his fingers impatiently, making brown eyes flash back to focus.

"Attention, Larson! _Please_ pay me some of your almighty attention if you want to survive this—"

Julian glared at him, crossing his arms defiantly. "Fuck off, Wright," he sneered, forcing himself to focus on Logan's words and not on his lips.

Derek was watching the two with a slightly amused expression, but when they heard cars pulling up outside, the amusement disappeared at once. They immediately dove out of sight of the open windows, hearts in their throats, clutching their guns tightly.

"So, do you know how to shoot?" Logan whispered sharply, pushing the other two boys around a corner that led to a hallway. "I need to know this, guys."

"I know how to shoot!" Julian hissed back and he cocked his gun as if to prove his point.

"When have you ever learned how to shoot?" Logan retorted irritably, not believing the spoiled actor for a second.

"In action movies—"

"Are you fucking kidding me? This isn't a _movie_, Julian!"

"They made me take shooting lessons, so I could get more into my character! And I brought Derek with me, so _yeah_—_I know how to shoot!_" Julian snapped angrily, gesturing to Derek, who nodded in agreement.

"We were the best in our class," Derek added, traces of a smug grin on his face.

Logan stared at the two for a moment, disbelief coloring his expression. But when Julian and Derek just stared back and didn't deny anything, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I'll just have to believe it then, I guess," he mumbled, pushing Julian back and peaking around the wall toward the front door.

"You sure they're coming in through the front door?" Derek asked. "I mean, isn't there a back door, too? And windows...?"

"Shut up, I know what I'm d—," Logan hushed, but he got interrupted when Julian suddenly gasped and hit him hard in his chest. "Ow, _fuck_, Julian—what the hell—?"

"Shadows!" Julian whispered, hand trembling as he pointed to the windows. Even though there were dark curtains hanging in front of the windows, they were so battered and torn that the fabric still let through light. There were shadows gliding over the old floor in the room, indicating the presence of people outside. "Oh _god_," Julian looked nauseous as he stared in absolute horror at the dark shapes.

Derek grasped his wrist, unconsciously pulling his friend closer as he looked around at Logan. The young sniper was studying the movements behind the curtains carefully, expression cold and calculating.

"What are we going to do now, Lo?"

Logan merely shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the windows and gazing around the room, not trying to show his growing distress as he searched for an escape, for a way out... but he came up empty.

And at that moment, the front door blasted open with a gigantic slam, the wood splintering and the hinges falling off with another loud crack. Logan cursed, pushing Derek and Julian back as they watched men bursting in, carrying guns and grim expressions. Julian hissed in fear, his hand reaching out and grabbing Logan's arm as they slowly walked backwards.

"Okay, here's what's going to happen," Logan whispered as the men continued to barge into the house. "We're going to sneak upstairs... and maybe we can escape via the roof or something—"

"—maybe—" Derek looked pale.

Logan took a shuddering breath. "A _big_ maybe. Alright, listen to me. Keep your eyes open, if you see anything move, _shoot_. If you hear anything, _shoot_. I don't care if you're unsure about it, you just _shoot_, okay? Because if you don't shoot first, they_ will_. Don't _ever_ hesitate."

Julian and Derek nodded, their faces lined with worry and stress, and both gripped their guns tighter.

"Okay then," Logan eyed the staircase in the hallway, not far from the front door, but well out of sight of the intruders. He could hear the heavy footsteps of Clavell's men vibrate through the entire building as they searched the ground floor. "Be fast and careful, guys. We have to go... _now_—!" and he lunged forward, both his friends on his heels as they sprinted through the hallway and fled up the stairs.

The staircase was old and their footsteps were louder than they'd imagined, the cracking of the steps echoing throughout the house. Derek and Julian winced and looked at each other with wide eyes, almost stopping if it weren't for Logan, who set his hands in their backs and pushed them further.

"They heard us," Logan shoved Julian impatiently and the actor almost tripped on the steps, his free hand barely grabbing the banister in time to keep him on his feet. "Faster, faster—guys, move _faster_!"

Men were running into the hallway just as the trio set foot on the first floor and dashed away from their sight. But Clavell's men had caught a quick glimpse of them and they started yelling, their screams and demands to look everywhere bounding through the entire house.

Logan grabbed Derek and Julian by their sleeves and pulled them through the landing, pushing a door open on good luck and barging in. To their surprise they stumbled in yet another hallway and Julian cursed as he quickly closed the door behind him.

"This house is too big! It's like a freaking maze, we'll never find a way out!"

"Shh!" Logan hissed and he urged his friends to start running again, determined to get out of here alive. Determined to get at least his friends out of here alive... he owed them that much.

The boys had never gotten the chance to investigate the house and Logan was regretting that now, for he had no idea which way he was running, no idea whether this was a safe way to go; he had no idea how to get out of here alive. When they rounded a corner and stumbled on yet another staircase, leading to the ground floor again, Logan swore loudly and wheeled around again.

There was no way they could go back through the hallway, though, for there were furious footsteps coming from that direction; fast and menacing as they reverberated through the corridor. Julian was gripping Derek's arm so tightly and his brown eyes were so wide with fear that it broke Logan's heart, but he had to make a decision and he had to make one now.

Looking around feverishly—the hallway behind them, the staircase, and the few doors that certainly led to rooms without a way to escape—he gestured with his gun to Derek and Julian, beckoning them closer.

Time was running out. Yet again.

"We're going to the ground floor, we're going to the living room and we're going to fight our way out. We're getting out of this, okay?" Logan's piercing gaze swiveled back and forth between Derek and Julian, who were both looking at him with terrified yet determined expressions, putting their complete trust in their long lost best friend, now a trained sniper with absolute knowledge about these kind of situations.

The footsteps in the hallway were getting louder though, and Logan realized that they didn't have enough time to get off the staircase safely. Not with those men so closely on their heels, not with the barrels of their guns breathing down their necks… He bit his lip as he tried to control his heavy breathing.

"Change of plans. You two go," he whispered decisively, moving to stand in front of his friends, facing the hallway, his gun ready. The footsteps were _so_ close now... so, so close...

"What...?" Julian was panicking and he was looking at Logan with large, wild eyes. "No—what?"

"Just _go_!" Logan snapped and he turned the two around by their shoulders, almost pushing them off the stairs. Derek tripped and it was all Julian could do keep him from falling off the steps. "Go, don't look back, just _go_!" Logan roared just as the first men appeared from behind the corner. They immediately started yelling, eyes glinting violently, aiming their guns with precision—

"Go!"

"_Logan!_"

"Fucking _go_, Julian!"

The first gunshots were like ferocious thunder cracking through the sky in a furious hurricane—the sounds booming through the old house as if through a scared forest, making the abandoned building tremble and shiver on its foundations, making everyone inside alert, ready, and anticipating.

The first gunshots weren't from Clavell's men.

Logan's eyes were a furious green as they stared coldly at the two fallen men on the floor, blood already forming pools under their still bodies, the sunlight falling through the windows giving the red liquid an odd, macabre glow.

Behind the sniper, two separate gasps sliced the air. Logan didn't turn around, just cocked his gun again and snapped at his friends to "get the fuck out of here!" and to "run, goddamnit!". Finally, Logan heard them run off the stairs, so fast they could've been falling off. The sound of different running announced the presence of even more of Clavell's men, and Logan pressed his lips in a thin line as three of them came to a stop before him. Having heard the gunshots and seeing their comrades lying dead on the floor, the men didn't hesitate as they aimed their guns and started shooting at the blond.

Logan ducked immediately as the bullets flew over his head, drilling into the wall behind him, narrowly missing his head. Beneath him, he heard a yell that could only come from Julian and he had to fight the urge to look around, to run down that stairs and help his friends out.

But his attention was acquired somewhere else. And even though he had to use every ounce of willpower he possessed to not wheel around and see how his friends were doing—to see how _Julian_ was doing—he kept standing, convincing himself that they were strong and smart enough to keep each other safe.

Logan had his own fight to win.

The men underestimated him. They were far older than Logan and they were laughing derisively as they almost casually aimed their guns for the second time, having no idea of the experience of the young sniper, having no idea that he'd killed far more people than they'd ever had.

Logan didn't even blink as he pulled a second gun from his belt, raised his arms and cocked both guns. Giving the men no chance to run or to even think about the danger they were in, he narrowed his eyes and pulled the two triggers at the same time, the thunderous sounds tearing through the room viciously. The one living man yelled and screamed in fury as his two companions sagged onto the floor, their last gurgling breaths barely audible, the blood streaming rapidly out of their bodies.

"_No!_" Wild with anger and frustration, the man didn't even aim when he raised his gun and shot at the blond.

Logan whirled around as he tried to avoid the bullet, groaning when he didn't duck in time and it grazed his shoulder, leaving a shallow wound that stung viciously. He gasped and cupped the wound with his hand, blood already oozing out, leaking from between his fingers and staining his clothes.

"I'm going to _kill_ you!" the man screamed and his gun rose again, both of his hands around the cold metal, his expression absolutely livid.

Logan was faster.

While holding his hand on the wound in his shoulder, the young sniper raised his hurt arm and pulled the trigger in the same second, not needing much time to aim properly. The bullet cut the air almost gracefully, digging into the man's chest before he'd had the chance to even cock his gun.

Without waiting for him to collapse, Logan had already turned around and he was dashing off down the stairs, worried sick for Derek and Julian. When he got downstairs, his feet immediately got soaked in blood and he looked around the room in shock, feeling sick to his stomach as he took in the scene. A few bodies lay limply on the floor, covered in blood and dirt, and he realized that he'd completely missed the shooting going on here with everything that had been going on upstairs.

Not wanting to give away his position, Logan didn't call out, instead stalking noiselessly through the destroyed living room and checking all the hallways attached to it. The sudden silence was so different than the loud chaos from just moments ago, it sounded deafening and dangerous, and it chilled him to the bone.

When someone tentatively touched his shoulder, Logan whirled around, fully intending to blow off that person's head. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw wide sepia eyes staring right back at him.

"Don't shoot," Julian whispered, voice hoarse and scared, his eyes so wide and dark that Logan could see his own reflection in them. "Don't shoot."

The blond panted, lowering his gun and closing his eyes in relief. "_Screw_ _you_, Julian—don't sneak up on me like that. I nearly blew your head off-" his green eyes flew open again, scanning the actor for injuries. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? Where's Derek?"

Julian bit his lip and shook his head. "I don't know. We had a fight with those guys and we got separated and he ran off somewhere. Shit, Lo—" he raked his hand through his hair, making brown strands stand up everywhere. His face was flustered and there was blood on his clothes and skin. "What are we going to _do_?" Then his gaze fell on Logan's arm and his eyes widened in shock as he reached out towards his friend. "What happened to you? Did they shoot you—?"

Logan was just about to shake his head and comfort the stunned actor, when a loud voice boomed through the bloodied room and both boys wheeled around at once.

"_Logan Wright!_ I know you're there, you disobedient, conceited _asshole!_"

Despite his fear, Julian frowned, his eyes narrowing as he tried to spot the person that was talking. "I know that voice..." he mumbled, more to himself than to Logan.

Logan wasn't going to give the speaker a chance to show his face though, because he recognized that voice _too_ and he knew very well what its owner could do to them. He grabbed Julian by his elbow and turned around, making a dash in the opposite direction.

"Come on, come on," he snapped when the actor tripped and almost fell over. "We have to go or we're dead. Fuck, he's here. Why is he here?"

"_Who's_ here?" Julian panted, hating to be left in the dark, hating not to know everything that was going on.

"The man who wants you dead," Logan's breath was heavy as they opened a door and ran into another huge room. "The man who hired me to kill you," there were several doors on the sides of the room and Logan glared at them in frustration. "The one who set all these men up to hunt us down and kill us," he continued as he dragged Julian to one of the doors and opened it forcefully.

"But who is _he_? _Why_ would he want me dead?" Julian pressed, watching as Logan closed the door to the closet furiously and reached out to the one next to it.

"I don't fucking know, Julian! All I know is that Clavell wants you dead because of "personal" reasons, whatever the hell that means—"

This door opened to another room and Logan reached behind him to grab hold of Julian again—only to see the actor standing rooted to the floor, his eyes so big they swallowed his face, his breathing fast and irregular as he stared at Logan in utter shock.

"Julian? What the hell are you doing, we have to go," Logan snapped, but Julian didn't move.

"What—what did you say? What's his name—?" the actor croaked.

Logan frowned, starting to get annoyed and impatient with the actor who was, yet again, showing his inner drama queen. "Julian, we don't have _time_ for this—"

"_What was his name, Logan?_"

Logan exhaled sharply. "His name is Clavell, Julian, I just said that. Are you happy now? Can we go now? You know, to save our lives? What's the _matter_ with you? We have to _go_. We are _dead_ if we do not run right now!"

"Adam Clavell? Is—is his name _Adam_ Clavell?" Julian whispered, his voice breaking when he spoke out _that _name.

When Logan nodded shortly, confused and agitated, Julian groaned and he buried his face in his hands. "No, no, no—"

"Julian, what the hell—?"

"That's not _possible_, Logan!" Julian suddenly burst out, kicking the wall in a horrible rage. "He was _dead_, Derek _killed_ him! Why is he _alive_? What is he _doing_ here?" His expression went from scared, to furious, to horrified in a split second, and Logan got only more confused from watching the display of emotions. "Where is Derek?" Julian choked out, all the color draining from his face. "Oh _god_, Derek shot him, Derek _shot_ him, Logan! Where is Derek?"

"What the hell is going on?" Logan lunged at the actor, grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him violently. "What the fuck are you _doing_? I don't know if you've _noticed_, but our _lives_ are in fucking danger, Larson! Get a grip on yourself! We have to _move_!"

"He was my stalker!" Julian screamed, not calming down at all, his heart thumping so fast it hurt, his breath stuck in his throat. "He was my stalker! When I was nineteen and he wanted to kill me and—and—_Derek_, Derek _shot_ him—" He was hyperventilating. "Oh my _god_, fuck no—no no no no—_fuck_!"

Stalker...?

And then everything clicked in Logan's mind, and he remembered the conversation from what seemed like ages ago. He remembered a picture, the paper old and wrinkling in his tight grasp, dark eyes and a careless smile staring up at him. And he remembered the confusion.

_"You want me to assassinate one of the most famous stars in Hollywood?"_

_"Yes."_

The hateful sneer, the twinkle of something sad and passionate behind dark, furious eyes...

"_You want me dead?"_

"_I want you to do whatever it takes."_

Logan closed his eyes and shook his head, almost as if he wanted to deny it... even though he knew it was all true.

"You've got to be kidding me, Julian... Your stalker?"

But Julian looked up at him, brown eyes wide and scared and so honest it hurt Logan's chest.

"_Why the prima donna?"_

"_...it's personal."_

Clavell's furious determination, his passion that had crossed the line to obsession a long time ago, his unfathomable fury...

"Fuck," Logan breathed. A long time ago—it seemed like a lifetime—he would've been glad to figure out the reason behind Clavell's demands, but at this moment and with those sepia eyes boring into his, he felt sick and violated.

Julian shook his head and he stepped forward, his fear obvious when he asked in a trembling voice the one question that was his highest priority right now—

"Logan. _Where_ is Derek?"

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading :) I hope you'll leave some reviews, they motivate me to write faster and I love love <em>lov<em>e to hear your thoughts :)**

**As said earlier, I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible, so see you then :D**

**- Rose**


	11. Wreck It All

**I am a horrible, horrible person D: I'm _so_ sorry for making you wait so long, _especially_ after I'd said I'd update in the next few days :( School and internships are demanding _so_ much time, it's killing me x_X I hate it, but I can't really do anything about it. I'm really sorry though :(**

**So much gratitude for my beta, Beth! SO MUCH. I couldn't do this without you, sweets :D I love you so much! **

**Thank you for your reviews and patience and I truly hope this chapter was worth the wait. Enjoy, lovelies :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: Wreck It All<strong>

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><p><em>Last chapter:<em>

_Julian shook his head and he stepped forward, his fear obvious when he asked in a trembling voice the one question that was his highest priority right now—_

_"Logan. __Where __is Derek?"_

**.**

Logan looked at Julian with a bewildered expression, his mind still reeling, thoughts about Clavell and him being a stalker—him being _Julian's_ stalker—exploding in his head.

"What...?"

"Lo, _where is Derek_?"

Julian was panicking now and he was looking around the room feverishly, almost as if he was expecting Derek to be hiding somewhere and that it was all just some big joke. That every minute Derek could jump up and scare the living shit out of them, and they'd all be yelling and bickering, but it wouldn't matter, because it would all be a joke and they'd all be alive and okay...

Any minute now.

"_Where is Derek, Logan?_" Julian asked frantically, tugging on Logan's sleeve, his fingers tearing the fabric.

But Logan was still stunned and anger was filling him now, a white-hot, searing anger that weighed on his heart and twisted his stomach, and he was going to be sick... because _where_ was Derek... and _where_ was Clavell...?

"He was your _stalker_?"

Julian's hands flew up and his fingers disappeared in strands of dirty brown hair. He nodded his head in panic, his eyes wide and scared and desperate. "_Yes!_"

Logan took a shaky breath. "We have to find Derek," he murmured. "We have to find Derek. _Shit_. Where did you see him last, Julian?"

"He was running this way," Julian whispered hoarsely. He was on the verge of a break down and it was showing—his eyes were as wide as saucers, his face pale, his cheeks flushed in distress. "He has to be here somewhere. He can't be upstairs, he didn't go to any stairs... He's not in the hallways—he has to be here _somewhere_." He ran to various doors, opening and closing them as they turned up empty. "How is he not here? He's got to be here somewhere..."

"We'll find him, Julian," Logan reassured him with a firm voice. "We'll find him." He yanked open another door—

—and then so many things happening at once that it seemed like the world exploded.

There was a hoarse scream that could only be Derek—Derek who was still alive, Derek who was _here_—and it was soon followed by a horrified yell—

"_Julian!_"

A furious scream—

"_Logan fucking Wright!"_

And immediately after that, gunshots were ripping through the room along with more screams and yells and curses. Trained and experienced, Logan managed to wheel around and push Julian behind an old wardrobe in a quick action, squashing next to his friend as they searched for cover. He swore loudly and slid the bag from his shoulders, digging through it impatiently. He snatched the gun from Julian's hand and swapped the magazines, throwing the old one on the floor and handing the actor back his gun.

"Here, take another one—"

"Logan! Logan, that was Derek!"

"Yes. Yes, I know—"

"He's _alive_!"

"Yes, Ju—"

"But how are we going to get out of here? How are we going to survive this? Logan—"

"Take the gun, Julian. You'll need it," Logan pressed as he tried to not lose his patience, pushing the gun in Julian's hands when the actor didn't take it himself.

"Logan—"

"I _know_, Julian! Stop whining, I'll think of something!"

After he'd renewed his own magazines, Logan slung the bag around his shoulder and he peaked around the closet cautiously. Immediately, the sounds of gunshots swelled again and Julian hissed in fear.

"Fuck you! I'm not whining, Logan! That is Derek out there! That is my _best friend _out there! We have to help him! We have to _get out_ of here!"

Logan threw the actor an aggravated look. "Sure, Julian. If I just jump out there and distract them with something, you're going to grab Derek and make a run for it, okay? Does that sound like a good fucking plan?"

Julian narrowed his eyes, his lips curling up in a ferocious snarl. "Fuck. You."

"And fuck you, too." Logan spat back. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he took a deep, slow breath as he tried to calm his mind. When he opened them again, the green of his irises were blazing with determination and without a second thought, the blond lunged from behind the wardrobe, two guns in his hands, at everything that moved.

Without looking around and without stopping as he tried to defend himself, Logan yelled, "Fucking _go_ then, Julian!"

Julian was looking at him with wide eyes, groaning as he grabbed the closet to prevent himself from collapsing. _This was not happening_. "I thought you were being _sarcastic_!" he yelled back, absolutely desperate.

"_Get Derek_, you fucking _princess_!"

Julian bit his lip, but he didn't hesitate. All he wanted was to grab Derek and get out of here alive. So he pushed himself from the wall and left the cover of the closet from the other side. His fingers were clenching two guns and he held them in front of his body, expression grim as he shot at the men that immediately started attacking him.

Bullets flew over his head and he heard them zoom by as they narrowly missed him. Julian was ducking and swirling, never standing still, his heart beating so loudly it rammed violently against his ribcage. Dust and dirt flared up from the floor and it formed a vague fog, making sight difficult, making aiming impossible. Blood and fallen men were littered over the floor and the actor was slipping over the red liquid, tripping over the bodies, and the scene was more gruesome and more terrifying than any movie set could ever recreate.

And suddenly Derek was there, running towards him, gun in his hand and blood on his face and clothes. He almost collided with Julian and Julian felt his heart soar in relief as he caught sight of his best friend.

"Derek—!"

"Go, go, go!" the athlete yelled, turning Julian around and pushing him away from the fight, not looking backwards, just looking at that door he wanted to reach—and he wanted to get out of here, but—

"Logan! What about Lo—"

"He'll be okay, Jules! Just run, okay?"

But Julian was shaking his head stubbornly and he whirled around. He was still firing his guns and he wondered how many bullets he had left. Even though Clavell's men were starting to fall—their numbers dwindling down slowly due to Logan's unfathomable expertise—Julian was thanking the gods that they weren't dead yet.

"Julian, go—"

"I'm not leaving without Logan, Derek, you know that!"

Derek yelled suddenly and he pushed Julian out of the way, a bullet grazing his arm as they fell to the ground. Derek scrambled up and wheeled around, shooting one of the offenders in his leg; the man cried out and collapsed onto the floor.

Then Logan appeared out of nowhere—panting, bleeding, sweating, and dirty—and he grabbed Julian's hand, pulled him up and towed them along, shoving Derek to the door impatiently.

"Get out of here, we have to _get out of here_," he snapped, cursing when a bullet ripped his shoulder open, fresh blood oozing out of the shallow wound. "Go, go, go!" He whirled around, defending Julian and Derek's back as they sprinted towards the one door.

They were almost there.

The sunlight provided little light and Logan's eyes were the brightest things in the room as dust continued to whirl up from the floor, filth and dirt drifting in the air and obscuring everyone's view.

Julian yanked the door open and Logan fired both his guns for the last time, throwing them away when he realized the magazines were empty. He turned around, fully intending to leap through the door and throw it shut behind them.

"No!" Julian screamed suddenly and instead of opening the door further, he was pushing it shut again.

"What the hell are you doing? _What the hell are you doing_?" Logan snarled, absolutely furious, and he snatched the gun from the actor's hand to keep defending them. There were not many men standing anymore, though. "I swear to God, if you don't open that fucking door right now—!"

But Julian was throwing his weight against it and he was screaming and yelling and Derek was looking at him in utter confusion.

Whoever was trying to open the door on the other side was stronger though, and the door swung open violently, making Julian fall back against Derek.

The gunshots stopped instantly.

A heavy silence fell in the room—a terrifying, horrible silence that was so sudden it was almost louder than the gunshots.

Julian drew a shaky breath, his hand grabbing Derek's wrist as they both stared in absolute horror and disbelief.

Adam Clavell was standing on the other side of the door, dark eyes narrowed to slits, his sharp gaze traveling over the trio and lingering on each boy individually.

The one that had disobeyed him.

The one that had rejected his love.

The one that had tried to kill him.

Logan was the first one to move. He tightened the grip on his gun, raised his arm and cocked it. His finger was curling around the trigger and he was close—_so_ close—to shooting, but Clavell gave him a murderous glance, a single gunshot echoed through the air, and Logan cried out, blood spilling rapidly from the wound in his arm. His gun fell to the ground with a loud clattering sound and Logan bit his lip, his eyes fluttering close in pain.

"Oh _fucking_—"

"You didn't honestly think you could kill me, did you, Wright?" Adam snapped, lowering his arm, his gun still smoking. "You honestly think you have a chance against me?_ Now_? In this mess you created?"

"Adam. Don't do this," Julian whispered, his wide eyes focusing on the man who he'd once been friends with such a long time ago.

Adam's eyes softened as they looked at the actor and his voice was gentle as he replied. "But I have to, Julian... You don't understand. Not yet. You'll see. You will see... everything's going to be so much better... We just have to... eliminate the last things that stand in the way. It'll be alright, I promise."

"No," Julian shook his head, eyes glistening with fear. "No, everything's _not_ alright. Let us go, Adam..." From his peripheral vision he could see Derek hand his gun to Logan and he focused back on Adam, on the person he thought to be dead. "How... how did you..."

"Survive?" Adam snickered darkly. "I wasn't dead after I was _shot_. The ambulance took me, I had to go through surgery and I had to stay in the hospital for _weeks_—" he took a deep breath. "And then I was out again. Just like that. Because no one had reported me, because everyone thought I was dead, and the nurses and doctors couldn't say a thing," he laughed cruelly. "Patient confidentiality."

Julian pressed his lips together, expression horrified as he shook his head. "Adam, why are you doing this?" his voice broke, his hands trembled and he had to force himself not to break down right then and there.

It was all too much.

Way, way too much.

"Because I _love_ you!" Adam whispered desperately and suddenly he was the young Adam again and not the cruel man that hired people to kill the actor, that terrible man that believed they should both die. "I love you so much, why don't you see that, Julian?"

"Because you _hurt_ everyone!" Julian cried desperately. "You _hurt_ people, you hurt people I care about, Adam! You _killed_ Carmen! _Why_ did you do that? What did she _ever_ do to you?"

"She was standing in the way—"

"You can't just kill people because they stand in the way!" Julian shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Adam—_I_ _don't love you_."

Adam jerked back as if he was slapped and the menacing glint in his dark eyes returned, his mouth curling up in a furious snarl. "_Yes, you do!_ I just... have to take care of the people standing in our way." His eyes were wild as they raked over the trio standing in front of him.

His arm snapped up so quickly, it was all Logan could do to push Derek over in time, the bullet flying over both their heads as they fell on the floor together. Adam snarled furiously and aimed his gun again, but this time it was Julian who yelled and leaped forward, shoving Adam against a wall with surprising force.

Logan and Derek stood up from the floor and the blond sniper grabbed his friend's wrist, pushing him behind him and into relative safety. The surrounding men were moving again; running towards the trio and their boss, who was still slightly dazed from where he sat against the wall. Logan cursed as he walked backwards, Derek behind him, gun ready to fire.

"Julian!"

As the first gunshots cut the air, Adam leaped on his feet and he was reaching out towards the actor, his hands almost grabbing Julian's sleeve. Logan was faster, fingers curling around Julian's wrist and yanking him back to him.

The trio backed away and Logan opened a door on good luck, pushing his friends in and leaping behind them, smashing the door shut.

"It's a closet—" Julian whispered horrified, turning in a little circle as he took in the rather big closet. There was absolutely no other way out than the way they went in. "_No_..."

Logan cursed loudly, and when Derek sank to the floor without a word, his two friends followed with long sighs. They were weary, wounded, exhausted beyond recognition. It was silent for a long time—the three friends relishing in the short moment of peace, all three of them trying to think of a plan to get them out safely. Logan was the first one to murmur a suggestion.

"You two have to go," he whispered, his heart clenching and breaking as he turned his gaze to Julian first. "I'll distract them and you can run." Julian started shaking his head, his eyes wide in horror as he stared at his friend. He opened his mouth to protest, but Logan reached out and delicately pressed two fingers against Julian's lips. "Don't talk, just listen to me for a moment. Let me do this for you. It's my fault that you're in this mess, it's my fault Clavell has gotten this far... Let me do this one thing for you—_please_—"

Cheeks bright red, Julian swatted Logan's hand away. "No—they'll—"

"—kill me?" Logan smiled gently at the brunet, his heart strangely swelling as he stared into the brown eyes. "I never expected to survive this job to begin with, Julian. I don't really care about that."

"Logan—" Derek started, his eyes flickering between Julian and Logan, his expression desperate. "Don't do this."

"If I don't do this, you're not going to get out of here alive," Logan retorted harshly. "I'm not prepared to let you die over something _I_ did wrong."

"No, no, no—" Julian muttered, his cold fingers grasping onto Logan's hands desperately. He looked up, staring in the bright green gaze with wide eyes, and shook his head. "Logan, there's another way—we'll find another way. You're not going to—to _stupidly_ sacrifice yourself when there's absolutely no need to—!"

"No need?" Logan snapped incredulously, gesturing to the door and the waiting men behind it. "They're _waiting _for us to get out of here and then they're going to slaughter us like trapped _animals_! I'd say there is _definitely_ a fuc—"

"I don't care! _Logan_, I don't _care_!" Even though his expression was stubborn and his eyes glinted ferociously, Julian's bottom lip trembled, betraying his fear and vulnerability. He raised one hand, but he hesitated too long and the moment to touch Logan—to maybe cup his cheek shortly—passed by, and he dropped his hand listlessly.

Logan raised his voice, bringing his face even closer to Julian's. Their noses almost touched as they stared each other down. "You _should_ care, damn it! Do you want to _die_?"

"_I'm not leaving here without you!_" Julian burst out, a blazing fire in his eyes, his fingers digging in the palms of Logan's hands. "I'm _not_ leaving this place without _you!_ Fucking hell, Logan! We'll find another way out! We're not going to sacrifice ourselves! We're in this together and we'll get out of this together!" He turned his smoldering gaze to Derek, who was behind Logan, idly looking through the sniper's bag of impressive weaponry. "Right, Derek?"

"Yeah, Derek—" Logan sneered as he turned around to look at the athlete. "_You_ say something about it. Do you want to live or die? Fucking hell, I'm just going to—" but as he tried to stand up, Julian's hands moved up and clasped around his arms like iron vises, and the actor yanked him back down again.

"Don't you fucking dare, Wright," he snarled menacingly. "Don't you fucking dare."

"What are you going to do, Larson?" Logan snapped back, his eyes darkening in his frustrated fury. "Are you going to _kill_ me? You might as well let Clavell do it! _That_ way _you_ can at least _live_!"

"_Don't say that to me, you ass!_" Julian yelled and in an action fueled by pure desperation, he raised his hand and slapped Logan hard across his face. Logan's eyes widened and he fell completely silent as he stared at a heavily panting Julian, his cheek turning white-hot and bright red.

"Julian..."

Julian stared back at him, his lips pressed in a tight line, his expression challenging and fearless for once. "_What, _you _ass_?"

Julian and Logan were bickering back and forth with such an intensity that they'd temporarily forgotten about Derek. The athlete was watching the two young men—his _best_ friends—and as he thought about what was waiting for them on the other side of the door, his heart broke.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

This wasn't how it was supposed to end.

Not for any of them.

Derek saw the concern in Logan's eyes now and he'd seen the worry and the care he'd given Julian in the past few days... he wasn't blind. He was glad that Logan had finally, _finally_ seemed to open his eyes, that he was finally _noticing _Julian. Because Derek knew that after all these years, after everything that had happened, after all that time spent apart, after all those flings Hollywood went crazy about... Derek knew that Julian's heart was still with Logan, that it still belonged to his old high school friend.

It always had.

This horrible chaos wasn't the time for love and it wasn't the perfect time for a romance to start, but the way Logan and Julian were staring at each other was so intimate, Derek almost felt the need to look away.

Even when they were fighting their love shined through. That flash of utter concern in devastating green eyes... That glimpse of an undying love in a sepia stare... The way their hands were still touching and their bodies seemed to gravitate towards each other...

And Derek knew that it might not be fair for anyone of them to end like this—to step out of here and be murdered like a pig for slaughter—but the athlete realized that especially for his two friends, for Julian and Logan and their strong, blooming love... _especially_ for them... it couldn't end like this. That was so unfair and so tragically wrong it hurt to even think about.

They were like his brothers. Even Logan, who'd only recently stepped back into their lives, bringing along his horrendous moods and snarky comments—even Logan was his brother. And he loved them. Simple as that.

He loved them.

And that was why it only sparked a small bit of fear, that was why he hesitated for only a split second, before he grabbed in Logan's bag and snatched up the weapon he'd seen a few minutes ago.

It didn't take Logan long to realize what Derek was doing, but before he could stop his friend—before he could do _anything_—Derek had opened the door and stepped out. Julian immediately leaped to his feet and he would've run straight after his friend, if it weren't for Logan who tackled him to the ground again.

"No, Julian,_ don't—!"_

"Derek—you _idiot_—!"

"Don't!"

Gunshots were being fired, but the only thing registering in Derek's mind were the cries of his two friends and the fact that he was holding Logan's machinegun as he ran across the room.

"Derek!"

"Julian—"

"Logan, let me go—_let me go!_ _Derek!_"

"_Julian!_"

"No, no, no, _no!_"

But Derek couldn't turn around to look at his friends and he couldn't answer their cries, because guns were being aimed at him and the machinegun in his own hands was still firing rapidly and tirelessly. He had to trust Logan to take control and according to his peripheral vision, Logan was taking control already.

"_No! _Let me go, let me go!_ Derek!_"

Logan's breath was coming in gasps, the air stuck in his throat as he forced Julian to move backwards out of the room. The actor was struggling, his nails raking over Logan's skin as he tried to get his arms off of him.

"Let me _go_!"

Clavell and his men were too distracted by Derek, who never ceased his fire on them, and when Logan finally reached the door and pushed Julian through, they were too late to react.

Everything hurt as Logan slammed the door shut; very well knowing that it sealed the fate of Derek. The gunshots and cries never died, only slightly muted by the closed door, forever imprinted in both Julian and Logan's minds.

"_Are you an idiot?_" Julian yelled, struggling as Logan forced him to move. "Don't fucking leave him behind, Logan! He'll_ die! Logan!"_

But Logan pressed his lips in a tight line and his arm was wrapped securely around the actor's waist, his sharp eyes carefully scrutinizing the dark rooms and the hallways they passed by. Julian stumbled on his feet as Logan pulled him along, almost tripping, his vision blinded by stinging tears. Logan had trouble pushing his whirling emotions down and he'd never regretted forgetting his medication as much as he did now.

At last, they reached the living room and Logan heaved a sigh as he dragged Julian with him. He was starting to get tired; his legs numbing, the shot wound in his arm burning.

Julian was still fighting his hold with a power that astounded him. The actor was screaming—horrible, awful, broken yells that ripped through the house and pierced through Logan's mind. The blond felt his knees buckle, his body growing weak. It was also _his_ friend they'd left behind, also _his_ best friend who'd thrown himself out there.

When they stumbled out of the house, Logan immediately headed toward the car. "In the car, Julian, get in the car—" But when they'd taken two steps, Logan saw that the tires were flat and useless, probably punctured by Clavell's men. His heart sank and he hissed a stream of furious profanities as he turned Julian around again. "No, no, no—fuck—_fuck_—"

Logan grabbed Julian by his waist and all but dragged him back, deeper into the deserted farm. They ran until they couldn't see the house anymore and they didn't stop until Logan spotted a huge building that must've been used for storage in better times.

It was big on the inside—with old, dusty hay bales haphazardly thrown over the floor. The stone walls and floor forming a sharp contrast with the rest of the sheds on the farm, that were all made out of wood.

Logan opened the metal doors and all but threw Julian inside, following quickly and slamming the doors shut again. The resulting dark surrounded them like an old friend and instead of being frightened, Logan was grateful for the cover it offered them. Without letting go of the actor, Logan carefully made his way to the opposite wall of the building, as far away from the door as possible.

Behind a pile of hay bales, Logan finally gave in to his exhaustion, and he sagged down on the floor, taking Julian with him. He leaned against the soft hay, his arms still wrapped around the brunet. The suspiciously quiet brunet.

"Julian?" Logan's whisper was sharp in the darkness, but the actor didn't respond. He just sat on the floor, leaning heavily against Logan, his glistening eyes barely visible as they stared at nothing. "Julian...?"

Julian was deadly quiet now, his hands clutching Logan's arms forcefully. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and his shoulders shocked as he tried to repress his sobs, but he said absolutely nothing. In the scarce light that filtered through the few dirty windows, he looked awful, almost sick. Along with the never-ending tears and the utterly broken expression in his shining eyes, this deafening silence was even more terrifying than his previous screaming, saying everything that couldn't be brought into words.

"We're going to be alright, Julian..." but then Logan thought of Derek and how he was alone against so many people... and he knew they weren't going to be alright.

Green eyes closed for a moment and the desperate sniper ran a hand through his hair, trying to stifle his own sobs. He couldn't cry... not here... not now... not when Julian was so broken and devastated and hurt...

He tightened his embrace around Julian, his concern doubling when the actor stayed numb, not reacting at all. Logan reached out in the dark, his fingers lacing through brown hair as he gently pushed Julian's head down so it rested on his chest. Logan buried his nose in Julian's soft hair and shut his eyes tightly, tears trickling down his cheeks.

"_Jules..."_

The nickname seemed to finally break the spell and Logan could feel it when Julian heaved a trembling breath and curled up in himself. The brunet pressed his face in Logan's chest and his fingers grabbed onto the blond's shirt desperately, nearly tearing the fabric. Warm liquid seeped through Logan's clothes as Julian started to sob—a sound so heartbreaking and so utterly painful, it hurt Logan far worse than his injuries.

They stayed like that for a long time—curled up in each other, Logan's face buried in Julian's hair, Julian almost drowning in Logan's strong embrace. They never wanted to let go again, wishing to stay like this forever, wishing to be comforted by each other forever...

But the harsh reality lingered in the back of their minds, never shutting up and never stopping its arrogant nagging as it got clearer and clearer—

They were in an abandoned farm, miles and miles away from people and help, hiding in an old, dark building—hurt, injured and exhausted...

...they were trapped.

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><p><strong>Thank you so much for reading and I hope you liked it! Reviews are extremely appreciated, like always :)<strong>

**See you the next time!**

**- Rose**


	12. Are You Strong Enough To Stand?

**Hi guise, I'm back! Uhm. After like two months :/ I'm a thousand times sorry for the delay, I really am, but there really wasn't much I could do about it... School and internships are kicking my ass and I'm ridiculously busy, so I can only hope I can bring you the next chapter soon. My first internship of this year is almost over though, so I really hope I'll have more time to write. Anyway, I'm sorry to keep you waiting and I'm eternally grateful for the people who waited for me and who're still reading :) And _thank you_ so much for the reviews! Oh wow! I'd never in a million years think this would have so many reviews and that so many people would like it! Thank you guise, you're freaking awesome! :D**

**And thank you thank you thank you for Beth, who's my wonderful beta for this fic :) You're beyond amazing, sweetie, and I love you *hearts***

**Everything belongs to CP Coulter, except for the plot ;)**

**And finally, I sincerely hope you like it, guise :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12: Are You Strong Enough To Stand?<strong>

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><p>The windows lining the walls were covered in filth and mud, making them impenetrable to light and throwing the building into a pitch black darkness. Hidden behind bales of hay, and in the corner furthest from the doors, Logan was holding Julian close to his chest. His green eyes were shut, his chin resting on top of dark and messy hair, his brow furrowed in grief. He shifted a bit, his hand slowly stroking over Julian's back, his fingers delicately following his spine.<p>

The wound in his arm was stinging painfully, the red seeping down his arm and staining his shirt—but the blood loss and the pain weren't of much importance to Logan. It was nothing compared to the pounding, stabbing knifes in his heart. Absolutely nothing compared to the dark emotions that flowed from his chest all throughout his body, thrashing like a hurricane as they broke everything they touched. Regret, self-loathing and a guilt so fierce it ate him alive left him feeling numb and useless—and it only contributed further to his self-hatred.

He hated himself for everything that had happened.

He hated himself for what he'd done.

And he hated himself for the simple fact that he would never be able to fix it all.

When Logan opened his eyes and looked down at the boy in his arms—that wonderful boy who'd turned his heart and life upside down—he realized that he'd never forgive himself if something were to happen to him. He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut like he used to do when he wanted all the bad things to go away.

Julian was lying completely frozen in Logan's arms, his cheek pressed in the sniper's shirt, his eyes wide open as he stubbornly concentrated on the steady beating of Logan's heart. His sobs had died down a long time ago, but his cheeks were still wet and his throat was raw from the hysterical crying. Every breath hurt, piercing through his heart, twisting and churning his stomach with every inhalation.

It was all his fault.

If he'd reached out for help earlier—if he'd done _something_ earlier—if he'd... if he hadn't... if he hadn't been the stupid asshole he had sworn to never be again...

Julian clenched his jaw as he tried to keep down the sobs that were building in his throat.

He should've gotten hurt. He should've jumped from that closet and he should've stopped it all right then and there. _He_ should've faced the vicious weaponry of Adam and his men. Him. Not Derek.

...never Derek.

Julian's concentration broke and the regular whoosh of Logan's heartbeats vanished into nothing as his face contorted in a mask of utter hurt and the sobs tore from his throat. He turned around, grabbed onto Logan's shirt and buried his face in the blond's chest.

Logan's eyes stayed closed and his expression didn't betray his emotions, but he pulled Julian closer and nuzzled his nose in brown locks. His breath was hot and trembling as he murmured soothing words, words that didn't even make sense to him, but it was all he could do to keep Julian from breaking down again.

"I'm so sorry," he choked quietly, his heart stuttering when he felt Julian scoot even closer. "I'm so, so, _so_ sorry. This would've never—never, _never_—happened if I hadn't—if I—" he clenched his jaw, the bright green of his eyes lighting up in the dark as they fluttered open. "It's all my fault."

"It's not," Julian whispered, his broken voice sounding even worse in the dark than his horrifying sobs had. "Stop saying it's your fault. Because it's not. It's just—" he hesitated for a moment, choking on his words as if he was searching for someone—_something—_to blame, but he fell silent and Logan's heart dropped.

"I'm so sorry."

Julian didn't say anything, just shook his head and pushed away from Logan's chest, breathing heavily while he forced the panic and grief to a darker place in his mind. This was not the time nor the place to break down—he wouldn't be the one to put them in danger again.

Logan stared at Julian, silently admiring his sudden ferociousness, rumpled only slightly by the tear-stained cheeks and the wetness brimming in his eyes. He should probably stop touching Julian—someone who was clearly way too good for him, someone who didn't deserve to be ruined by him—but he dismissed the thought quickly and kept his hands safely on Julian's lower back.

Julian stared at Logan and pursed his lips, scrutinizing the sniper carefully. When he finally spoke, it was with a determined voice that shook only a tiny bit, his attitude one befitting of a Hollywood celebrity.

"Stop saying you're sorry," Julian's expression was blazing, made even more fierce by his glistening eyes and hoarse voice. His chin trembled when he talked, betraying the vulnerability under the strong mask. "We have to survive this, Logan. We owe it to—we owe Derek," he swallowed, his resolute demeanor wavering a little. "We _owe_ him our _lives_—we can't let him down."

Logan bit his lip, exhaling sharply and closing his eyes as he leaned back against the hay. "I'm not saying I'm not going to try my best to get us out alive... but Jules?"

Julian looked up, his expression guarded, his fingers clenching Logan's shirt. "What is it?"

Logan finally opened his eyes, his gaze uncertain as he focused on the brunet. Julian frowned, feeling uneasy by Logan's uncertainty—an emotion he had never seen on the blond. It scared him to see the arrogant sniper unsure of his business—business he was supposed to be the expert in.

"What is it, Logan?" he asked again, pressing Logan to answer him _now_.

"We're out of weapons," Logan replied bluntly, his gaze swiveling from Julian to the dark shadows behind him. "We're out of weapons, we're out of ammunition, we're out of everything."

Julian's eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. "Oh," he whispered, his breath stuck in his throat and his hands trembling. "So... are we..."

Snorting humorlessly, Logan leaned back against the hay, something dark flickering in his eyes. "We're screwed," he muttered hollowly.

Julian opened his mouth to reply, but the loud slam of doors being opened cut him off roughly, the metallic sound echoing through the building and hitting the walls gravely. Logan hissed a curse and yanked Julian down and against his chest, craning his neck to try and see past the haystacks.

Light streamed in through the open doors, the beam of sunlight interrupted by three long shadows, coming from three men standing in the doorway. They were holding weapons, their stance severe and ramrod straight, their expressions wild and dangerous.

Looking down, Logan caught sight of Julian's wide brown eyes, his fear so plain it sent shivers down the sniper's spine.

When Clavell's voice echoed through the ancient place, it sounded hollow and so saccharine sweet that it was utterly repulsive.

"Where are you, Julian?"

At the mention of his name, Julian's eyes widened even more, swallowing his pale face. He jerked backwards and he would've tumbled right over if it weren't for Logan, whose arms were wrapped around him and kept him from falling.

"_Stay still_," the blond mouthed impatiently, shaking the noisy actor to emphasize the importance of this.

"Don't be afraid—" Adam chuckled—a deranged, mad sound that was more terrifying than anything Julian had ever heard. "Wright's the only one who should be afraid of me. Julian?"

Julian shook his head, his fingers trembling when he grasped onto Logan's shirt. He looked up, staring right into emerald eyes, and he moved closer as he breathed, "_Logan—what do we do?_"

The sound of nearing footsteps filled the silent air and Julian groaned, pressing his face against Logan's shoulder. The sniper looked at him in desperation and he turned around, peeking through the hay at the three stalking men. They were starting to get closer and Logan wheeled back, grabbing Julian's hand and towing him along as he moved away from Clavell.

"What are you doing?" Julian whispered, trying to make as little sound as possible as he crawled after Logan.

"Trust me," Logan breathed back, standing up as they reached the taller haystacks in the corner. Julian followed him, leaning into him as they stood side to side in the black shadows. Logan looked around at Julian, his eyes shining with doubt. "Do you trust me?"

Julian bit his lip, cheeks pale when he nodded. "Yes," he replied, voice hoarse yet unwavering in its certainty. "I trust you."

After a short moment of contemplation, Logan held out his hand, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at the brunet in front of him. Julian stared at his outstretched hand for just a second before reaching out and grasping it, lifting his chin to meet Logan's gaze. Their fingers laced together easily, their skin vibrant and radiating warmth when they touched, almost like they were made for it. Logan lowered his intense stare and looked at their intertwined hands with an unfathomable expression.

"Lo…?" Julian asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeah?" the blond whispered, tearing his gaze away from their hands and focusing on Julian.

Julian licked his lips nervously, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip in hesitation before he dared to ask his question.

"Are we going to die?"

Logan's heart stilled and he felt cold shivers dash down his spine like electricity. He slowly looked up, right into Julian's eyes, and a massive amount of fear—not for himself, but for _Julian_—knocked him almost off his feet. It took him a few seconds before he could respond, his mouth opening and closing before he was finally able to produce words.

"...I don't want us to die."

Somewhere in the building something fell over, something heavy and metallic, and it created a gigantic noise—a sound that slammed against the walls and filled the air with a piercing screeching. It was immediately followed by Clavell's impatient yell.

"_Julian, where are you?_"

Julian visibly flinched, but before Logan could do anything, he'd collected himself—his head held high and his eyes glinting furiously.

"Okay. What's the plan?"

Logan's answer was instant and definite. "They've probably split up to search for us. We're furthest away from the doors, so naturally they'll be here last. They're probably fast though, so we'll have to hurry—"

"What do you want to do?" Julian asked, completely focused on Logan, putting his complete trust in his friend.

"We need weapons and we need to steal them from Clavell's men," Logan whispered, tugging on Julian's hand as he started walking through their hiding place.

The men were closing in on them, their footsteps getting louder and their heavy breathing audible as they stalked through the hay.

"Where are you going?" Julian breathed, lightly touching Logan's elbow to gain his attention.

Logan turned around at once, so close all of a sudden he almost bumped into Julian, whose eyes widened in surprise and whose chest struggled for air. Adrenaline was coursing through the actor's veins, his heart drumming so violently against his ribcage he was afraid it was going to burst right through.

Despite all of his inner turmoil, a moment of peace had fallen in the midst of all this horrible, terrifying chaos—a moment in which it seemed only the two of them existed.

The quiet was deafening as it covered them.

Logan exhaled shakily, his lips slightly parted to let the air through more easily. His eyes wandered over Julian's startled face—his expressive red-rimmed eyes, his luscious lips, his dirty cheeks with the tear tracks still visible...

_Beautiful_.

Logan blinked, almost alarmed by this thought.

Many things were beautiful. A setting sun over a calm sea, spider webs covered in glistening drops of water, piano music played by gentle fingers, a starry night along with vague memories of someone teaching him the constellations...

Julian wasn't anything like that, though. There really wasn't anything that could compare to his kind of beauty.

Logan's eyes softened and he tilted his head to the side, the tension in his shoulders vanishing as if relieved of the weight of the world. Julian's eyes narrowed—in confusion, in a silent question, in shared feelings—and Logan smiled gently.

In a rash action—thoughtless, reckless, maybe even stupid—he reached out to Julian, his arms wrapping around the brunet's slender waist, his fingers digging in his baggy clothes. Julian exhaled shakily, his hands loosely touching Logan's shoulders as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. His brown eyes were wide, confused, completely astounded. But Logan barely noticed the actor's astonishment, and he leaned down, closed his eyes and crushed his lips to Julian's.

Their kiss was passionate, hopeful, immeasurably gentle... flawless.

Julian made a soft sound in the back of his throat, his hands coming up to tangle in Logan's hair, grabbing the locks and tugging urgently. Logan turned them around, careful to not make any noises as he pressed Julian against the haystacks and deepened their kiss.

Their tongues danced together, exploring teeth and skin, their hands trailing over each other's clothes—and just like that... it was over.

Logan pulled back slowly, resting his forehead against Julian's, his blazing gaze examining the deep brown eyes staring up at him. Julian's cheeks were flushed—maybe for the first time in _days_—and he was still slightly panting from their heated kiss, but his expression was almost serene as he looked up.

"We're going to be alright," Logan breathed, his eyes wide and convincing as they drilled into Julian's. "We're going to be alright," he repeated hoarsely.

Julian didn't say anything back, merely frowned while he waited for his heart to calm down. Logan's hands were warm in his, keeping him grounded and keeping him safe. He wanted to stay in this moment of peace forever.

But time never stood still, the seconds ticking away mercilessly as traitorous footsteps came closer and closer to their hiding place, brutally disrupting the quiet moment. Logan's hands clenched around Julian's and the actor immediately understood what the sniper was silently telling him.

It was time.

"You stay here," Logan whispered.

Julian frowned, indignation coloring his expression, all the hope and light and passion from just a moment ago leaving him in a heartbeat. This _wasn't_ what they'd agreed on—and Logan knew that.

"What?" Julian hissed. "No—Logan, we were going to do this together—"

"Please don't argue," Logan warned—almost pleaded—as he squeezed Julian's hands. "I'm not asking you to do nothing, I'm just asking you to _wait_ for it. Let me do my thing, then you can do your thing."

"What's my thing?" Julian asked, his fingers slipping from Logan's as the sniper stepped back. "Lo—wait, no—what's my thing?"

Logan turned to look at him, green eyes glinting with emotions. "Your thing is to stay alive—"

Julian opened his mouth to protest, the color draining from his face just as quickly as it had come—but Logan hushed him quickly, his finger pressed on the actor's lips.

"—and to be here when I get back," Logan finished his sentence. "But please, please, _please_ be careful. Promise me you'll be careful—" The sniper was definitely pleading now, laying all his pride aside as he begged for Julian to stay safe.

Wasn't that what he'd promised...? Every other thing was irrelevant right now—as long as Julian stayed safe and _alive_.

Julian stared at him, Logan's tone and wish reaching out to his heart and stirring some deep emotions he'd almost forgotten about. He nodded slowly. "I promise," he whispered reluctantly. "...I promise."

"Okay," Logan breathed, looking at Julian one last time, drinking in the sight of the exhausted brunet. "Wait here for me, I'll be back soon—" He turned around, but halted when he felt ice-cold fingers curl around his wrist, holding him back.

"Please don't get yourself killed," he heard Julian whisper behind him, his voice cracking and absolutely terrified.

Logan closed his eyes, counted to three, tried to control his breathing—but nothing helped against the roaring terror. "I'll do my best."

Julian let go hesitatingly—his fingers uncurling one by one, until he wasn't touching Logan anymore and the sniper was free to walk away and disappear behind the haystacks.

Logan didn't look back towards the actor, but he could imagine the lost look on his face, the fear in his brown eyes and the loud beating of his heart... because he felt the exact same. He exhaled slowly, thoughts of everything that could happen filtering through his mind—horrifying images of blood, screams, gunshots, broken and devastated people...

But... no.

No.

He wouldn't let that happen—he _couldn't_ let that happen. He wouldn't lose Julian. Not after Derek, not after everything they had to go through and everything that happened...

...not after he'd tasted his lips, touched his face and felt things he hadn't felt in years.

It was still dark in the building, except for the one beam of light that streamed in from the open doors, and Logan moved around cautiously, using the darkest shadows as cover. It was quiet though, and Logan realized he missed Julian by his side—his gentle breathing, his soft whispers, his comforting touches—it was much, much too quiet without Julian. But what was more worrying about the silence was the fact that Clavell and his men weren't making any sounds either—like they knew Logan had made the first move, like they knew the fight was about to start.

Logan pressed back against the hay, his chest heaving as he carefully listened to the footsteps coming his way. He closed his eyes and relaxed his body, hearing the soft _pat pat pat_ coming closer and closer... His eyes flickered open at once—green lightening against a black sky—and he leaped forward.

With the experience of years and years of fighting and surviving, Logan forced the man down to the ground, his knee planted in his back and one hand around the man's mouth—muffling his started yell. With his other hand Logan pried the gun from the man's grasp, his fingers swift and skilled as they snatched the weapon up and knocked the man unconscious with it. Without hesitating, Logan grabbed his head and jerked it viciously to the side, the light snap muted when the neck broke.

Logan stood up, stumbling back a few steps as he took in the body.

He never felt sad about killing people—it was part of the job, it was part of his life, and he never really thought much of it. But as he looked at the body at his feet and as he thought about how _easy_ it had been to murder that man... there was a piece of him that cracked this time. A piece of him that remembered Julian and the completely different world _he_ lived in—their worlds separated by a bridge Logan was afraid he'd never be able to cross.

He sighed, nudging the body with his foot and shaking his head. He didn't have time to be all melancholic now. He'd be sad later, he'd think about this later—not now, not when their lives were still in danger.

So Logan gripped the stolen gun tighter, tore his gaze from the body, and hurried back the way he'd come.

Julian was leaning against the haystacks, almost looking nonchalant with his arms crossed and his eyes glassy as they stared into space. When Logan walked toward him, his feet shuffling the hay and making noise, Julian's head shot up immediately, his eyes huge and dark, his face an unhealthy shade of white. He visibly relaxed when he saw it was only Logan and he sagged against the hay, closing his eyes for a moment. Logan's heart sank when he realized how utterly drained he looked.

_I'm so sorry._

He reached out with his hand, the stolen gun dangling from his fingertips as he held it out to Julian, the metal cold and vaguely glinting in the dim light. Julian stared at it, his expression forlorn as he reached out and took the weapon from Logan.

"Thanks," he whispered hoarsely, his fingers delicate and pale around the dark metal.

Logan swallowed, nodding as he looked away for a moment.

_I am so, so sorry._

He sighed, trying to convey with his eyes the things he couldn't say out loud. "I'm going to try and get the other weapon, okay?"

"Wait—what did you do with that man? Is he still walking around?" Julian whispered.

That odd feeling of melancholy drifted back and Logan shook his head to get rid of it. His eyes glinted with the tiniest hint of remorse when he lightly traced a finger over his throat. Julian's eyes widened, his mouth forming an inaudible word.

"_Dead_?"

Logan nodded vaguely and turned around to go after the other man. He barely caught Julian's whisper before he left their hide-out, but a wave of warmth struck him when he heard the words.

"Stay safe, Lo. Please."

He looked back over his shoulder and their eyes locked for a moment, expressions sad, terrified and guarded. Logan tilted his head, smiling sadly as he pointed to Julian's gun. "You keep that ready, okay?"

Julian nodded ruefully, his fingers curling around the metal. "Yeah. Come back soon."

Biting his lip, Logan bowed his head. "I'll try."

"Okay," Julian breathed, his eyes darker than ever as they looked away. "Try your hardest."

"I will," Logan assured him. "See you in a minute, Jules." He wheeled around, leaving a lost Julian behind who could only stare as Logan walked away.

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><p>Twenty minutes later, Logan still hadn't returned.<p>

Julian was crouched on the floor, his back against the haystacks as he waited for Logan to come back. His arms were around his knees, his chin resting on top of them. He was fiddling absentmindedly with the gun while he waited, his mind already busy forming plans to search for Logan.

_Where are you?_

The silence surrounding him created a false sense of safety, but the thought of Logan—of him being somewhere in the foreign building all by himself—kept Julian alert. The fact that Logan still hadn't returned terrified him beyond belief.

Twenty minutes is a long time to be waiting.

Something could've easily happened in twenty minutes.

_Did something happen...? What happened?_

Julian's eyes snapped open, his heart skipping a beat and his stomach twisting in fear. He scrambled up, slipping over the hay as he looked around wildly, the gun in his hands feeling heavier than ever.

It was so quiet.

No shuffling through the building, no shouts from Clavell, no _nothing_.

And it didn't feel right.

It didn't feel right and _where the hell was Logan?_

Exhaling shakily, Julian tried to control his breathing, his chest heaving when he slowly stepped forward. He hesitated, scared out of his mind and horribly unsure of what he was supposed to do now.

He'd barely walked two steps before he was caught off guard by a whole scale of emotions. Rage, frustration, hate and pure terror flooded through his system so rapidly, he nearly drowned in it. He wanted to scream, to curse, to throw things, to yell at everything and everyone—hating everyone for putting him in this situation, hating _himself_ for being in this situation and for being so pathetically powerless. But he hugged his torso and covered his mouth with one hand, forcing himself to hold everything back, to swallow down the raw screams that were bubbling in his throat.

_Logan_.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, blinking away the upcoming tears.

_Logan_.

He had to find Logan first.

They'd figure out what to do later—when they were together.

He heaved a shaky sigh, praying to whoever was listening that Logan was alright. The gun clutched securely in his hand, he cautiously walked forward, his breaths shallow and irregular as he tried to make as little sound as possible.

_You'd better be alright, Lo_. _You'd better be alright, you fucking ass—_

That thought floated through his head, repeating itself like a mantra. It was the only thing holding Julian upright, the only thing that made Julian continue walking. His knees were shaking, his hands were trembling and he was close—_so close_—to giving up, to just give in to that horrendous fear clawing its way through his heart and break down completely.

There was a small crack near him and Julian wheeled around, his heart pounding in his throat as he raised the gun with every intention to shoot.

But... nothing. There was nothing.

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Julian took a step backwards. He parted his lips to whisper Logan's name—wanting him to be here so much it hurt—but changed his mind on the last second, closing his mouth reluctantly to not give his position away.

_If you're not alright I'm going to kill you, Logan. Fuck you for putting me through this. Fuck you._

He suppressed a sob that had been building in his throat, lowered the gun and turned around to continue his search. He managed to take three steps before an arm closed around his neck and yanked him back viciously. Julian's eyes widened and his gun dropped to the floor when he tried to pull the arm away. He opened his mouth, ready to scream, but a hand closed around his lips, effectively blocking his shout for help.

A hysterical terror tore through his body, crippling and violent, burning him from the inside out.

_No no no no no no no._

Breath rasping through his throat and nose, he tried to pry the hand away with his fingers, his heart pounding so tremendously loud it hurt.

_No no no—NO!_

A hot breath ghosted over his cheek and Julian closed his eyes in horror, feeling sick to his stomach.

This wasn't happening.

"Hi babe," Adam whispered in his ear, unbelievably soft and gentle as he pulled Julian closer to his body. "I'll take care of you now, okay? We're going to be okay, yeah? We're going to go to a better place, where we can be together... please don't be afraid."

Julian closed his eyes, a desperate sob escaping from his throat.

"Come with me," Adam breathed patiently. "Wright has to see this, Wright has to see us being happy. Come with me, sweetheart—I know a perfect spot." He was silent for two heartbeats, as if contemplating something. "Everything will be alright, Julian, we just have to do this. We just have to get through this. Trust me."

Julian shook his head, frantically trying to get out of Adam's grasp—kicking, clawing and hissing like a wild cat—but the taller man was so much stronger than him and his struggle was pathetically futile.

Adam chuckled softly, and it almost sounded tender.

"Trust me, Julian."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, guise, I hope you liked it :) It would also be <em>really really<em> awesome if we could make it to the 100 reviews XD So so so review pretty pretty please? You'd make my day :D And I will do my best to write the new chapter as fast and as good as I can :P**

**See you next time**

**- Rose**


	13. Protecting Both Your Heart And Mine

**Hiii guise :) Thank you so so so _so much_ for all of your brilliant reviews, I had never, never in a million years, thought I'd get over 100 reviews. I am _ecstatic._ Thank you so freaking much for sharing your opinions, your feelings, your heartbreak, your joy. And thank you thank you thank you for sticking around with the story, even if my updates are less frequent as they should be *squashes all of you***

**Also, an incredibly happy New Year to eeeevery one of you, I hope it brings you everything good in the world :)**

**Loads and loads of thank yous to my wonderful beta, Beth, who catches all of my mistakes and who inspires me to write better :) Thanks sweetheart, I could've never done this without you, and I love you *clings***

**And finally, I want to remind you that this is rated M because of violence and even though violence has already occurred in earlier chapters, this one will bring a lot more. Also, I want you to remember Julian's preface. And last of all, I hope you enjoy it, even if the chapter isn't exactly happy :)**

**See you on the other side.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13: Protecting Both Your Heart And Mine<strong>

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><p>It was easy to kill people.<p>

Blood loss from a knife plunged somewhere in the abdomen or the chest. Suffocation through strangulation, crushing the ribs, breaking the nose and jaw. Or—easier, so much easier—a bullet through the heart, lungs, brain, neck. Lacking a knife or a gun—a simple snap of the neck would suffice.

Logan tried not to think of it as he glanced down at the broken body at his feet—the last of the two men Clavell had brought with him—but the dark thoughts wouldn't leave his mind, would probably never leave his mind for the rest of his life. Death was natural for him, belonged to him, forever following the beat of his heart and the whoosh of his lungs. He nudged the man with his foot, and the man's neck—twisted at an unnatural angle—made a nauseating sound when it moved sideways. Logan sighed, massaging his sprained wrist in an attempt to dull the pain caused by a well-aimed kick.

Death was ridiculously easy, and it had been easy for years.

There was only one thing that made Logan feel uneasy about it, only one person who would have that kind of influence on his being. The sepia eyes widening in shock when he'd told about the death of the first man, the look of shock and reluctant judgment in them—it made an uncomfortably warm shame rise up. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in years, and especially not for the one thing he was actually good at.

Logan snorted derisively, _hating_ himself for having forgotten his medication.

_...damn feelings._

He tried to ignore the mess in his mind—this utter chaos he wasn't familiar with because the meds had always created a strict order and tranquility—and scooped down to pick up the dead man's gun. The icy metal felt solid and familiar in his hands, confirming the confidence he had in his skills and experience. A fleeting thought ran through his head—launched off by bittersweet memories of bottomless brown eyes, a catty smirk, rich laughter—and the tighter his hands clutched the weapon, the more Logan wondered how his life had turned out like this... and more than ever he wished he could simply stop it all.

The detached calculating.

The fighting.

The killing.

The cold-blooded _murdering_.

His hands trembled when the memories came, but when Logan noticed his own distress, he desperately tried to chase away those traitorous thoughts that caught him so off guard. He'd save them for later and if there wouldn't be a later, he wasn't about to worry over these useless thoughts now.

"Two down, one to go," he breathed, the gun in his hands raised and ready to fire as he stalked forward.

The urge to see Julian struck him like lightening—sudden, vicious, blinding him. He needed to hold the brunet in his arms, bury his nose in brown hair, soak up Julian's comforting fragrance. Not a want, but a need. As quietly as possible, Logan started running, his entire body yearning to be with Julian—to protect the ludicrously defenseless actor. When he reached the hideout, Logan skidded to a halt, body frozen as his wide eyes took in the scene.

Confusion, realization, dread, rage—they followed each other so rapidly, it took a few seconds for Logan to react accordingly. When it had finally sunk in that the hideout was _empty_ and that Julian was gone—_his_ Julian, someone he should've _protected_—the emotions blasted through him anew. He choked on his breath, his heart plummeting until it landed somewhere far below the hay and the cement under his feet—forever lost from sight. A crushing terror crashed through him.

"No—" he hissed, wheeling around on his heels and desperately taking in the scene. His practiced eyes penetrated the darkness and instantly made out the telltale signs of a struggle—the messed up hay, the prints of filthy footsteps, and, most importantly, Julian's gun on the floor.

The familiar anger—that horrible, awful emotion that demolished his concentration and could only be driven out by destructive medicine—flared up viciously and created a sheen of red in front of his eyes. He could feel the fury pump through his body, and stolen memories from another lifetime flashed through his mind—school uniforms, bickering, snapping, and _so much anger_. He scrunched his eyes shut, furiously kicking up the hay in the air, all caution to be as silent as possible forgotten.

When he opened his eyes they were glinting with a thousand death threats, and a feral snarl escaped his lips.

"_No!_"

A faint chuckle crept through the abandoned building, sending cold shivers down Logan's spine when he recognized it. He spun around, trying to track down the source of the laughter, livid when he couldn't find it.

"Clavell—I'm going to _kill_ you!_ Where is Julian?_" Logan roared, his sharp gaze flickering from shadow to shadow, from corner to corner. In a rush fueled by pure, unadulterated fear and fury, he snatched Julian's gun from the floor and pointed it to the ceiling, shooting at the filthy windows without hesitation. The bullets destroyed the glass instantly, the sunlight reflecting in them as the glimmering pieces rained down onto the floor and into the hay. The bright light from outside—a world so sunny and light it seemed horribly unreal—poured into the building, chasing away the shadows and merrily bouncing off the golden hay.

Logan heard a curse when the darkness made place for light, and hay shuffled around as if it was shoved aside by rushed feet. The cunning sniper smirked darkly at this tiny victory. Julian's gun—empty after all the windows had been shattered—slipped from his fingers and dropped on the ground, the hay covering it like it had never even been there. He took a few cautious steps forward, trying to decide where to go now.

_You're dead, Clavell. Dead._

Killing was easy after all.

All the while, ever since he'd discovered the empty hideout and the frightening absence of the actor, terrifying images had crossed his mind. Julian screaming, Julian hurting, Julian in the hands of Clavell... vicious, murderous, merciless Clavell...

It hurt.

_God_—it hurt to think about it.

Logan tried to clear his mind, tried to focus on what he had to do right now. He breathed in. Out. Very slow, trembling breaths that didn't calm him in the slightest, only managed to dull his desperation. Like a flickering candle in the wind, struggling to maintain its flame, only to flare up again once the breeze finally dies down. The thing that did make him push away the painful images were almost inaudible noises, definitely created by Clavell. They seemed to come from above and Logan frowned, carefully moving from his spot to get a clearer view of his surroundings.

Now that the dirty windows were broken and there was finally light, Logan could see a decayed staircase leading up to an unstable-looking attic. His eyes followed the wooden steps—hollowed out by termites and time—until they focused on the shadows of the attic. Outside a cloud shifted away and a beam of sunlight streamed into the building, tirelessly filtering through the darkness of the attic and revealing the scene up there.

Logan's heart leaped as fresh dread flooded him.

On the attic, right above the stairs and staring menacingly down at him, was Clavell, his arms encircled around Julian in a protective manner.

Logan exhaled sharply. "Julian."

At the sound of his name, Julian looked up from where he he'd been struggling against Clavell's hold. He opened his mouth to say something, but the man behind him shook his head and tugged him closer to his chest. A gun appeared from Clavell's belt and he held it to Julian's temple, making the actor cringe away.

It was a reflex. At the sight of the gun Logan raised his own weapon, his eyes narrowing as he automatically started to determine what the perfect spot would be to place his bullet. His finger was already curled around the trigger, his feet firmly planted on the floor.

He never missed.

And there it was. A clear shot. Right under Clavell's arm and next to Julian's neck, a tiny but wholly exposed place he could land his bullet in.

He _never_ missed.

The finger around the trigger trembled and pulled it a miniscule bit, just a hair apart from actually firing the gun.

Logan could've shot right through Clavell's heart and he would've killed him, he would _not_ have missed... but a small flicker of his eyes—just a brief glance in Julian's direction—made him hesitate. Julian's neck—his bare, vulnerable neck—was less than an inch away from Clavell's heart. The actor was staring at him with wide, brown eyes—and Logan's finger wavered over the trigger, loosened its hold.

He couldn't shoot.

Not with Julian so close and unprotected.

He couldn't.

The realization made cold tendrils of fear sneak through his veins. He'd never held back with such an opportunity, and the fact that his concern for Julian's safety prevented him from pulling the trigger scared him more than he'd like to admit. It made him vulnerable. And if there was anything he hated more than his broken memories, it was the feeling of being vulnerable.

Clavell smirked, a filthy grin that made his eyes flash madly. He probably knew that Logan wouldn't try to shoot, but the madman still moved Julian in front of his chest, making sure all of his vital parts were covered.

Logan pressed his lips together in sour disappointment and he lowered his gun a few inches.

When Julian noticed Logan's expression, he started struggling again, trying to break free from Clavell's arms. The gun pressed harder against his temple, the metal feeling icy cold on his skin, and he bit his lip in fear, his nails digging in Clavell's arms.

Logan was studying them carefully, his gaze indecipherable, his face taut and calculating. His gun was still raised, his arms unwavering as they held it up.

"Don't move, honey, or I'll shoot your _lover_," Clavell whispered in Julian's ear, his breath brushing over his cheek, the last word pronounced as if it was a contagious disease. Clavell pushed Julian away and with his free hand he pulled a second gun, raising it to aim at Logan. "I will shoot him," he breathed hoarsely, one gun still carefully following the actor.

Julian stumbled back, his eyes wide as they stared from the guns to Logan. Clavell merely grinned wider, his crazed eyes flickering in a wildly elated madness as they met Logan's ferocious green glare.

"Let him go, Clavell," Logan warned with a low, dangerous voice. It was obvious he was having trouble controlling his anger, and Julian felt a sharp pang, memories of Logan's temper in high school flashing through his thoughts. "Let him_ go_, or I'll swear to god I'll shoot your pathetic little head off."

Clavell shook his head and cocked the gun he'd been pointing to the stunned actor, smiling at Logan's outraged shout. Julian's breath hitched, his unblinking stare frozen on the weapon. His back bumped against the wooden wall behind him when he took another step back. At the soft thud, Clavell turned around a bit, looking at the actor apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Julian. I don't want to hurt you—"

"You don't—" Julian's mouth was as dry as sandpaper and he swallowed, licking his lips as he forced his gaze away from the menacing weapon. "You _don't_ want to hurt me...?" he asked hoarsely, tone dripping with disbelief. "You—you hired an _assassin_ to _kill _me—but you don't want to _hurt_ me? Do you think I'm fucking _stupid_, Adam?" he rasped. "Do you think I'm an _idiot_?"

Clavell stared at him and had just opened his mouth to reply when there was a harsh click from downstairs. Clavell immediately recognized the sound and he whirled around, aiming both his guns to Julian. His expression was livid when he glowered to the blond downstairs, who was standing there with a cocked gun and a determined expression.

"_Don't you even fucking dare, Wright!_" he hissed. "You know how fucking quick a gun can fire, and you may be the best sniper the US have ever seen—but you know _me_, and you know how fast _I_ can fire a gun! Idie, _he_ dies! That's what's going to happen—that's how it's supposed to be—I die, he dies—" he was breathing heavily, his mind completely lost to the allure of the darkest kind of desire and lust. "_I_ die, _he_ dies—" he repeated.

Logan stayed absolutely silent, his eyes narrowed to angry slits as he glanced from Clavell to Julian. Despite his defiant attitude and the absolutely ferocious glint in his eyes, Logan looked desperate and so utterly forlorn, it broke Julian's heart in a million pieces.

"Logan, please—" Julian started, but his voice betrayed him—cracking and breaking off—and he tried to convey the rest of his sentence with his eyes. _Go away, turn around and go away. Be safe._

Clavell made an annoyed sound at the back of his throat and he moved one of his guns to aim at Logan again. "It's always Logan, isn't it?" he whispered darkly.

Julian looked from Logan to Clavell, his confusion obvious.

"It's always _been_ Logan, hasn't it?" Clavell continued, his voice growing in strength and in danger. His gaze flickered to Julian and he narrowed his eyes, demanding a confirmation. "_Hasn't it?_"

Julian almost jumped at the viciousness in his tone and he nodded shakily. "Yes," he breathed. "Yes," Julian looked down and met Logan's startled stare—his green eyes full of questions, confusion and horror—and he closed his eyes for a moment. His voice was hoarse when he repeated, "It has."

Clavell chuckled bitterly and his hands trembled, the guns wavering through the air insecurely. Julian saw Logan's eyes flicker at the sign of weakness, his hands tightening around his own gun. Clavell controlled himself quickly though, his weapons stilled in the air, frozen like statues. "I knew it from the moment I saw the letters," he bit. "I _knew_ it."

The little bit of color left in Julian's face flooded away, his eyes glued to the deranged fanboy. He didn't dare to look at Logan. "You—you saw the letters...?"

Logan frowned, his gaze shooting from Clavell to Julian. Julian noticed his finger tapping the trigger in aggravation and when he wondered why Logan wouldn't just shoot already, he figured out the answer to that instantly. It was him. Logan wasn't shooting because of him. Julian realized friend-Logan and sniper-Logan were two entirely different identities and at this moment, in this situation, Logan had chosen to adopt the first one. It made Julian feel even worse.

"What letters?" Logan inquired, his voice hoarse and impatient.

Julian looked away from him, fixing his intense and scared stare on Clavell instead.

"What letters?" Logan pressed. "What the hell are you talking about, Clavell?"

Clavell barked out a grim, humorless laugh and stalked towards Julian. The actor tried to back away, but the wall behind him left him no way to go. He groaned when Clavell put his arms around him again, the cold metal of the gun back to his temple. A sharp click filled the air when Clavell cocked the weapon. Julian whimpered, closed his eyes, and prayed to whatever god was listening that this was all just one huge, terrifying nightmare.

This couldn't possibly be real, right?

Logan yelled in protest when Clavell touched Julian—throwing scathing insults his way instead of the deadly bullets he was itching to fire. "_Get your fucking filthy claws off of—_" His finger curled around the trigger—too hard in his absolute fury—and a violent, explosive noise ripped the air in a thousand ugly pieces. His bullet missed Clavell and Julian by several inches and drilled harmlessly into the wooden wall behind them, leaving irregular cracks and a black hole behind.

"Fucking _jesus_—" Clavell staggered back in surprise—nearly choking a shell-shocked Julian—and shot back in a reflex. His bullet wasn't aimed either, shot in pure defense—but it made a horrifying, muted sound when it sank in Logan's leg. Julian shouted out in fear when Logan yelled and gritted his teeth in pain, green eyes blazing in a white-hot loathing and rage when they glared up to Clavell.

"_Logan!_" Julian was hysterical, staring at Logan's bleeding leg with huge, incredulous eyes.

"They were letters for you!" Clavell shouted above the noise, the smoke from his gun slowly dissolving in the air, his laughter mental and carefree like nothing had just happened. "They were all letters for you! Because—because—" his laughter died down and he tilted his head, resting his cheek on Julian's hair, "he's loved you since high school," he finished in a whisper.

Logan's wounded leg hurt like hell and he was having trouble standing on it, making him stumble a bit. The pain was not important right now, though. All he could feel was a complete astonishment when he stared at Julian, his entire concentration fixed on the actor. Julian stared back at him in fear and worry, his eyes flickering from Logan's face to his bleeding wound.

"You... what?"

Julian's concerned expression turned into one of horror, his face a sickly sheen of white. "I—" Logan's inquisitive gaze was too penetrating, too vivid—and Julian squeezed his eyes shut to escape the green eyes he'd been dreaming of since he was 14. He didn't dare to answer Logan's question, pleading for his safety instead.

"Let him _leave_, Adam, he's hurt. This is between you and m—"

"No, no, no—" Clavell cried out, crushing Julian against his chest and ignoring the actor's gasp for breath. "The story gets even _better_! The letters were all _unsent_ of course, but maybe that was for the best—" his gaze wandered to Logan, and all traces of his fake humor disappeared. There was a vile smirk on his face when he eyed the bleeding wound in the sniper's leg. "I was able to find out what miserable being had gained Julian's love, and I was able to track him down—to track _you_down. The best part of it all—the part I'd never _ever_ expected—was when I discovered what you did for a living, " Clavell's eyes took on a dreamy look and the smile on his face was creepy, fake. "Wouldn't that have been ironic? The boy Julian Larson has been pining after for _years_... the boy Julian Larson _loves_—even after _years_apart... wouldn't it be ironic if that boy had killed him? Wouldn't that... that would've been something..."

From downstairs, separated by a broken staircase and the menacing presence of three guns, Logan was staring at Clavell in pure disgust. His heart was racing, the pain in his leg was excruciating, and a burning shock rushed through his body. He looked at Julian with huge eyes—so many regrets and apologies glistening in them they seemed to hold a thousand suns. All the moments he'd ever thought about shooting Julian—about _killing_ Julian—wrecked through his mind, striking him like the waves of the ocean crashing against the rocks of the shore.

Julian loved him.

Julian had _loved _him...

And for a moment... for a short moment Logan wondered if he'd known back then... if he'd seen the passionate glint in Julian's expressive eyes whenever he talked about acting, if he'd noticed the way his hands gestured wildly in the air whenever he was excited, or how his full lips curved in a sarcastic sneer whenever he was annoyed. He wondered if he'd loved Julian back.

If he hadn't lost his memories... would they've been together now...?

He wished he could remember.

Julian had _loved_ him.

...would Julian still love him?

Logan's eyes flickered when he thought of the darker memories, of him trying to _kill_ the actor several times. The actor who'd loved him. Probably the only person in the world who'd ever truly loved him... and Logan had tried to murder him.

He glanced up and stared right into Julian's worried eyes. Julian was leaning away from Clavell and towards the blond, looking like he would've jumped from the attic if it wouldn't be for Clavell's arms holding him back. Logan stayed scarily silent, his expression absolutely devastated as his green gaze searched sepia. Julian's eyes were brimming with tears and it seemed like he knew exactly what went on in Logan's head. The actor shook his head, his expression apologizing and forgiving at the same time, as if to say "it's okay, don't think about it—please, please, _please_ don't think about it."

Logan's gun pointed towards the floor, completely forgotten in the onslaught of emotions. "You're sick—" he croaked, his burning gaze shifting to the madman responsible for all of this. "You're completely mental—"

Clavell smirked. "You nearly succeeded, though. You nearly killed him," he whispered. "It's such a shame you failed to carry out your job. Now I have to do it all by myself... but maybe it's better this way," he breathed, gently tracing a pinkie over Julian's cheek. Julian winced and he turned his head away from Clavell's hand, his eyes holding a torturous fear in them as they locked with Logan's. Logan froze, the shattering self-loathing like fire in his veins.

What had he done?

What had he done?

_What had he done?_

"Logan, don't think—" Julian rasped, but Clavell pressed his arm against his mouth and brought the gun closer to his head, effectively silencing him.

"Not now, sweet thing," Clavell murmured. "I wasn't finished yet, there's just one more thing you need to know—" His mad gaze flashed back to Logan and he smiled sweetly. "There were a few obstacles, of course. Obstacles that had to be removed if I wanted to come closer to Julian."

Logan frowned and he saw the same confusion reflected in Julian's eyes.

_Now what? What obstacles?_

Clavell smile widened and he looked at Julian lovingly. "The magazines were talking about you dating Marcie Lillian," he whispered roughly. "That _brat_ Marcie, who doesn't deserve your beauty and your stunning, priceless personality. She doesn't _understand_ you the way I do, Julian. So... we had to get rid of her," he glanced at Logan, who paled when realization hit him mercilessly. "Or rather... I arranged someone to get rid of her."

Logan's heart dropped when he saw Julian's entire demeanor change. The actor's eyes widened—dark, huge, and drowning in hurt—and flickered to Logan, staring at him in utter astonishment. Logan stared back silently, his expression betraying innumerable regrets.

What was he supposed to do? There was nothing to say. Marcie had been Julian's friend and he'd murdered her. One simple shot. Assassinated her without batting an eye.

Julian struggled to escape the arms around him and when Clavell's hand slipped from his mouth, his voice was impossibly sad when he asked, "_You_ killed Marcie?"

A suffocating feeling of fear and incredulity surged up in the sniper, and he wanted to scream "no", to yell and plea—he wanted to deny it all. But something in the shocked and sad gaze of Julian told him it wouldn't work, told him it was all out in the open now, told him he would lose the actor regardless how this day would end.

Clavell let Julian go and the actor stumbled over the wooden floor, not paying attention to the fact that Clavell had one of his guns aimed at him. Julian's eyes flickered to Logan's hurt leg—where the blood was oozing from the wound and trickling down languidly—and pressed his lips together, obviously trying to hold back his accusations.

"I didn't know, Jules," Logan mumbled softly. "I didn't know, I promise."

Julian shook his head, his incredulous stare still glued to Logan's wounded leg—the only thing in the world that prevented him from screaming his lungs out and upsetting the sniper further. The kiss—that beautiful, gorgeous kiss he'd been dreaming about for _years_—felt filthy now, a betrayal to his cast-mate and friend, and Julian felt sick when he thought about it.

Nobody said a word for a few seconds, and the only sound splintering the silence was Logan's ragged breathing, his hurt leg screeching in pain.

"Just get this over with," Julian finally whispered.

Clavell's eyes widened in surprise. His smile was sincerely gleeful when he wheeled around to stare at Julian. "I agree," he replied passionately. Julian stared back at him—all his anger gone, replaced by a strangely empty, melancholic feeling.

Logan cursed and protested through gritted teeth. "No! No, Julian, don't you give up—"

Julian turned around. "What am I supposed to do, Logan?" The desperation radiated from his voice and expression, and it pierced through Logan's heart. "What do_you_ want to do? He's going to kill me anyway, let's just get this fucking over with."

"_No!_"

"And you have to _go away_," Julian pleaded. "Logan, _leave_—_please_."

"No!" Logan snapped. "I'm not going to lose you, Julian! I'm not going to fucking lose you like that!"

Julian raised his eyes to the ceiling in a silent prayer, pressing his lips together to choke back a sob. Logan wanted to say more, but Clavell cocked both his guns, effectively gaining back all the attention. His eyes were wide and sparkling, and he was staring at Julian like he was the last, most precious thing on the world. For him, he probably was.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, moving closer to the actor. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Julian shook his head, shivering when he felt Clavell's breath ghost over his face. "But you did," he rasped quietly. "And you still are."

"It will be over soon. You'll be happy, I _promise_." Clavell looked at Julian, his eyes betraying so much trust, so much faith, and so much _love_—it hurt to look at.

Julian sobbed and turned away, his eyes falling on Logan, who had raised his gun again and was looking back with a ferocious look in his devastating green gaze.

"Don't do this, Clavell," the sniper warned menacingly. His intentions were clear even though he didn't voice them: as soon as Clavell pulled that trigger, he was going to pull his. They both knew it, but only one really cared about it. "Don't you fucking dare—"

Clavell turned to him, irritated and furious all of a sudden. "What would you know about _love_?" he spat hatefully. "You've never been loved, you've never even_loved_! Not the way I love Julian, not the way we love each other—you don't know anything!"

"Logan, just _go away_—"

"Julian, _shut up_!" Logan snapped. "Clavell—step away, don't you fucking touch him," he hissed, both his hands trembling as he gripped his gun tighter. His finger curled around the trigger, ready to shoot at any moment. "_Please_. Adam—" It was the first time in his life he called Clavell by his first name, but the madman didn't seem to listen to him.

"_No_," Clavell snarled. "No—you're not going to ruin it! Not again—you're _not_ going to ruin this!"

Julian watched with wide eyes as Clavell's hands tensed around both his guns—one aimed at Julian, the other at Logan—and the actor was moving even before he yelled—a horrible, terrifying scream that ripped from his lips, but didn't register in his mind.

The three gunshots cracked through the air simultaneously— the noise as thunderous and terrifying as in the most devastating hurricane—rocking the building and making time stand still.

For a split second nothing seemed to happen, except for the last echoes of the gunshots slowly dying out until there was nothing but an eerie silence left.

Logan struggled for breath, his chest hurting as his heart dropped, his eyes widening as he stared at the attic. The scene playing out there seemed to be in slow-motion, giving Logan the false idea that he'd be able to change the script in time, when in reality there was nothing he could do. His gun clattered to the ground and as soon as he gained back the feeling in his numb limbs, he started running—an earsplitting, horrifying scream tearing from his throat.

"_No!_"

A devastating fear surged through his body, overshadowing the tormenting pain in his leg, but making him almost trip and fall onto the floor.

"_NO!_"

Julian spluttered and stumbled on his feet, his hands feebly grasping the fabric of his shirt, searching for something to hold onto. He watched in horror as Adam sank on his knees, blood pouring from the wound in his throat, where Logan's bullet had struck. Red liquid seeped from Adam's mouth and nose and the he looked up slowly, his bloody smile tender and only meant for Julian. Then he fell backwards, his eyes closing and his breath freezing even before he hit the floor. Julian coughed when he gasped for air, doubling over in shock. He tried to breathe but he choked, and when he looked down at his hands and saw the bright red blood—_his_ bright red blood—only then did he feel the scorching, white-hot pain sear through his body. He whimpered in panic, his eyes fluttering close as he stumbled backwards. He was vaguely aware of someone screaming his name, and somewhere in his mind he recognized the voice and the warm feelings it brought with it.

"Julian! Julian—no—! _JULIAN!_"

Julian groaned in pain, his fingers clutching his soaked shirt in a vain attempt to make breathing easier. But it was like he'd fallen in the ocean and he was trying to breathe in the violent waves, the salty water filling his throat and creating a burning pain within. He wavered, lost his balance, and then the floor underneath his feet disappeared.

The world stood still as Julian collapsed and crashed noisily from the stairs, his body surrendered to the gravity and the hard, sharp wood of the steps. Logan went absolutely frantic when he saw Julian fall, screaming and yelling as he forced his legs to move faster.

He was too late.

Way, way too late.

"_Julian!_"

The horrifying sounds of cracking bones and shattering wood splintered the air, knocking the breath out of Logan's lungs. It seemed to take ages, but in reality it was only a few seconds before Julian finally reached the end of the stairs and stopped falling. He lay splayed out like a broken doll, one leg still resting on the bottom step, his eyes dazed and half open, already catching glimpses of another world.

The sounds followed Julian's example and when the actor remained unmoving, the noise died down, too. A deadly silence stretched out, the suffocating tension almost tangible in the air.

The one who broke the quiet was the only one able to.

"_No_—"

Logan dropped to his knees, tears streaking his cheeks when he saw Julian's bloodied face and worse—much, much worse—the wound in his chest that never stopped leaking blood. He leaned forward and carefully touched the actor's face, trying to smile when Julian's pained, unfocused eyes flickered to his own.

"Hey," Logan soothed, his eyes a wild storm as he forced to keep his expression as calm as possible. He hastily pulled out his sweater and pressed it on the wound, but it barely stopped the blood from streaming out and forming a pool underneath Julian's body. He nearly gagged when the red liquid poured through his fingers, but he tried to keep it together for Julian's sake—even when everything inside of him broke into a thousand pieces.

_Take my blood._

_Please, take my blood._

Julian wheezed for breath and one of his hands came up weakly, his fingers hooking around Logan's sleeve listlessly. The sniper closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them he met Julian's terrified ones. He was pressing so hard on the wound, Logan could feel the irregular beating of Julian's heart vibrate through his ribs. The beats were slower than they were supposed to be.

_Take my heart._

Logan shifted a little, impossibly gentle when he moved closer to hold Julian in his arms. One of his hands was still firmly pressing down on the wound, but both boys knew it was futile.

"Jules..."

Julian tried to say something, but when his cracked lips moved, blood welled up from his throat and he choked on it. His entire body quivered when a painful coughing fit wrecked through him, his chest struggling for breath but clearly losing the fight.

Logan's own breath hitched in fear.

_Please, please, please... take my heart._

"Julian?" Logan breathed, his voice trembling. "Hey... hey—don't talk okay? I'm—I'm going to—" he didn't finish his sentence, instead frantically patting his pockets with one bloodied hand, desperately searching for his phone so he could call for help.

There was nothing in his pockets, though.

"What the fuck—" When he briefly met Julian's gaze, he became aware of the horrifying realization he must've lost his phone somewhere in the fight. The actor was staring up at him silently, his eyes glassy and his breaths uneven and shallow.

"Jules, do you still have your phone—?" Logan whispered, and while he started searching through Julian's pockets he realized the actor was wearing _his_ clothes, and the actor's phone was probably lying forgotten in his own jeans. All the way back at the sniper's home.

"No," Logan whispered. "No, no, _no_—"

This wasn't supposed to happen.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"...help."

Logan's eyes widened when that one word left his lips.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd called for help. He never needed help, never even _wanted_ it, his pride too important to accept it. But now, with Julian lying as a broken porcelain doll in his arms—white and still, yet so utterly beautiful it hurt—he didn't feel the slightest bit ashamed. All the dignity in the world wouldn't help them now. A soft moan of distress left his lips, and he took a deep breath.

"_Help_!"

His voice was raw and soaked with agony, his scream cutting through the building and rising all the way up to the broken windows and into the outside world. His cry seemed to intermingle with the clouds and disappear instantly.

"Help! _Please, help!_" Logan yelled again, but when there was no answer and when the air around him kept as silent as ever, he squeezed his eyes shut and doubled over, letting his forehead rest against Julian's. "Please..."

The actor's breathing was ragged and uneven, his skin an unhealthy color of white. Logan was no doctor and no nurse, and he knew nothing about these kind of things—but even he knew Julian was in a bad shape. A very, very bad shape.

And there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Logan jumped when a wailing sound pierced the air—still far away, but just loud enough to reach his ears. His eyes widened and he was almost afraid to feel hopeful as he turned towards the door to listen more carefully. When the sound moved closer and grew in volume, the relief he felt was like an icy waterfall crashing down on him.

Ambulances.

That sound was definitely from ambulances.

At that moment he didn't wonder what the ambulances were doing here and he didn't care either, but he was certain—without a second's doubt—that they were coming for them, that they were coming for Julian.

The actor seemed to hear them too, and he turned his head the tiniest bit towards the doors. Logan's arms trembled and Julian's gaze wandered to the sniper's, his lips slowly curling up in a gentle smile. Logan didn't smile back, but he reached out to caress Julian's cheek, whispering words of encouragement.

"Hang on there, Jules. They're going to be here soon, you're going to be fine—"

Julian nodded—his chin dropping a fraction of an inch—and he tried to keep his eyes on Logan, who was looking at him with all the hope of the world. He really tried to hold his focus—really, really tried, because he wanted to look into those green eyes forever—but after a few seconds of silent struggle, Julian lost his concentration. His eyes rolled back when they closed, his head lulled to the side, his breath shallow and barely audible.

Hope wasn't supposed to just disappear like that. Hope was supposed to carry out its blessed job and make everything alright again.

Logan shook Julian, scared to hurt him, but absolutely terrified to lose him. He shook harder, his fear threatening to swallow him and pull him under.

"No, no—wait—what are you doing—no, don't—_Julian_—"

With tears blurring his vision, Logan pressed Julian closer to his chest, murmuring desperate pleas in his hair. His tears trickled down from his chin and landed on Julian's cheeks, making it seem like the actor was crying too. It looked strange and wrong, another imperfection on Julian's bruised face.

"Don't you fucking _do_ this, Jules," Logan growled. He wished fate was an actual human being, just so he could hurt it as much as it had hurt them. "Why do you always have to be so stubborn—Julian, _don't_ do this—" The sirens of the ambulances got louder and Logan repressed a sob, his arms around Julian and his head resting on dark hair.

And while the ambulances were racing towards them and Julian's condition worsened rapidly, Logan started muttering encouragements, his eyes closed and his lips moving around the same words over and over again.

"Jules, you're going to be alright, you're going to be alright. Trust me. _Trust me_. You're going to be alright, you _have_ to be alright—"

Eventually, after a few minutes in which the sirens grew stronger—the exact opposite of Julian's waning strength—Logan's pleas cracked, hesitated, and he stumbled on the words until the sobs stole his voice entirely.

Julian's eyes were closed and his face was a frightening hue of white, forming a stark contrast with the dark color of his hair—so soaked and drenched with blood and mud, it seemed almost black. His face rested against Logan's chest, his lips slightly parted to let ragged, painful-sounding gasps pass. He seemed almost comfortable in Logan's embrace, except that he was too still and too unmoving to be sleeping.

"Come on, Jules," Logan whispered softly, his plea painful and drowned out by the sirens. There was no reaction. Julian stayed silent, his eyes were closed, and he was so heavy in his arms...

* * *

><p><strong><strong>In a way… Adam's plan really did work out well, didn't it? Adam shot Julian and Logan shot Adam—and Logan's left behind with a completely shattered heart. For all Adam knows, Julian and he are both dead and both will go to that happy place and they <strong>_**will **_**have that incredibly happily ever after of which he's always dreamed. I imagine Adam's beyond elated that his plan worked out the way it did.****

**Anyway. Thank you for reading, and reviews are golden as usual :)**

**See you next time—where you'll find out who's still breathing and who'll stay silent forever.**

**- Rose**


	14. Love Me Tender

**Hi everyone! I'm sorry it took so long, but here it finally is: chapter 14 :) Just one more chapter after this and then we're done *freaking out*. Thank you so much for the people who've stayed with me and this story even if I made you wait for so long. I'm so sorry for the long waits, I really hate them, but I just can't work faster, I have _so much to do_ ;_;**

**Anyway, I want to thank my beta a million, million times, because she made me a better writer and I love her with everything I have :) Beth, you're amazing and thank you! Also, I should say that she said that it's not to be recommended to read this chapter with Down by Jason Walker playing XD Apparently :P I love you, Beth *snuggles***

**Also, I should say that the writing style might be a little bit different, so I hope it doesn't bother you ^^  
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**And now I should stop talking and let you enjoy (I hope?) one of the last chapters. Happy reading, sweeties :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14: Love Me Tender<strong>

* * *

><p><em>You're going to be fine.<em>

_You have to be fine._

_Jules... Julian..._

_Let's run away from here._

Logan's vision was blurred, unclear—the world bleeding away in front of his eyes and slowly slipping from his grasp. The ambulances stopping in front of the open doors were vague yellow splotches, stretched out over a canvas of light blue. The world was wiped out, as if someone had smeared their hands through a freshly painted drawing. He suspected the tears were causing it, but while his cheeks were still wet and salty, his eyes had dried out a long time ago. His head hurt, he felt dizzy, and when his arms slipped from their hold on the unconscious boy in his lap, his hand fell on his leg and landed in a huge pool of crimson blood.

The pain was excruciating, torturous. Somewhere in the back of his mind Logan realized he should call for help now—but his last cries still echoed painfully in his head, loud enough to hurt him, loud enough for everyone to hear.

_No... I should stay._

_...Jules..._

His thoughts were a hazardous, fragmented mess—scattering broken and damaged memories of another lifetime everywhere.

_Countless profanities and insults—pushes and shoves that ended up against bookcases and closets—smirks about coffee and homework—laughter at impossible places to fall asleep—crying because of damaged families and broken hearts—crushing hugs that felt awkward and right—and—and—_

He groaned, trying to make sense of these strange, unknown memories, trying to make them go away. They weren't his, they couldn't possibly belong to _him_—

_Little deceptive pills and lost memories—terrifying, hopeless blackness—horribly confusing fights with a stern looking man and an upset looking woman who looked concerned and sweet and—silence, silence, forever silence—and running—staying invisible—always, always running away—_

He was used to running, to always getting out. Fleeing was a familiar feeling, escaping without leaving traces—and even though his body felt like lead and even though every movement was torture—through the jumble of thoughts and memories, he felt the horrifying urge to _run_ and _get out_. To pick up Julian and run for their lives.

Maybe they could escape this hell. Maybe they could live. Maybe they could survive after all.

_Run, run, run, run—_

The pain in his leg seemed to have spread out to his head. When he clenched his teeth and doubled over in pain his chest pressed tightly against Julian's—and for one terrifying moment he could swear Julian had died. But then the faint sounds of a heart beating filtered through the mess in his mind, a light pounding vibrated through his ribs and he could breathe again.

_Stay, stay, stay—you have to stay—_

The blackness crashed down on him before he had a chance to move, before he had a chance to escape this incredible chaos he'd created. It was a heavy, crushing weight that forced his eyes to close, made him slump to the floor, made it difficult to breathe.

He was tired.

_Can't run, can't get out—_

The last thing Logan remembered were the paramedics, with their soothing voices and businesslike commands, who had to pry his arms off of Julian with force, ignoring his weak but urgent pleas to not take the boy away from him. In his last moments of lucidity—right before the world and everything in it evaporated into darkness—his last thoughts were not of pain, and they weren't the strange memories of earlier either. His last thoughts were of a boy with a vibrant smile and with eyes the color of the setting sun—the only person who could make him feel, even when he'd taken his medication.

_Julian._

* * *

><p>When Logan opened his eyes the first thing he felt was a crushing sense of loneliness and terror, and in a reflex he searched for someone's hand to hold onto—Julian, Derek, an unknown boy with silky hair and starry eyes, but mostly Julian—and found no one. He swallowed, his fingers clenching around empty air as he looked around bewildered.<p>

Where the world had been a hazardous mess of colors at first, it was a blinding white that pierced its way into his skull now. He squeezed his eyes shut, making a little sound of distress that hurt his throat, and wished again for someone to be there.

After a few seconds—when his breathing had regulated and his heart wasn't making these ridiculous attempts of breaking free from his chest—the horrifying fear washed away and he dared to open his eyes a little bit. The white was less blinding to look at, but he was still all alone, and his heart leaped when he thought of the people that were supposed to be with him now, particularly one person.

The minute that person crossed his mind, the memories slammed into him, and his eyes widened when he remembered everything with a horrifying clarity.

_"Logan, just__go _away_—"_

_"Julian,_shut up_! Clavell—step away, don't you fucking touch him!"_

Logan frowned and closed his eyes, trying to repress those frightening memories and failing miserably.

_The gunshots—those horrifying, deafening blasts that ended the world as Logan knew it and threatened to rip away his heart— had torn apart the air._

_And then—_

"_Julian! Julian—no—! JULIAN!"_

"Jules," Logan whispered. He cleared his throat, blazing with annoyance when his voice sounded so weak and raspy while he wanted nothing more than to scream out that name. "Julian—"

He started when someone grabbed his hand, and a wide smile appeared out of all the white. Blue eyes stared down at him, concerned and patient.

"Logan?"

Logan blinked, looking up at the young woman with the nice voice and the kind eyes, forcing himself to focus on what she had to say.

"Logan, are you with me?"

But he didn't care about that, he didn't care about himself, and he felt slightly annoyed that the lady didn't know that. All he cared about was—

"Julian?"

The blue eyes dipped up and down when the nurse nodded. She leaned down to gently squeeze his hand. From his peripheral vision, he thought he saw her other hand fiddle with his IV. "Is that the boy who was with you?"

_Yes. Yes. Yes._

But the nurse couldn't read his mind and Logan had to clear his throat before replying, his voice a painful rasp when he whispered, "Yes."

"Julian is sleeping in a different room."

Logan narrowed his eyes a bit, wondering why that sounded wrong. "Can I—"

"He's still hurting, Logan." Her hand brushed lightly over his cheek and he jerked away from her touch as she wiped at something. Tears? It was difficult to focus on anything but Julian. The thought of the actor being in as much pain—probably even _more_ pain—as he was in right now scared Logan more than he cared to admit.

"But I'll make a deal with you," the nurse continued. "I'll bring you to him when you've really woken up and when you're not in so much pain anymore. Okay?"

Logan thought he nodded, but the world had turned black again before he could fully comprehend what he was doing.

* * *

><p>A few days later, when he was holding Julian's hand with their fingers laced together and feeling like something had finally been set right in the world, Logan finally figured out what the nurse had been wrong about.<p>

She'd obviously never seen Julian sleep before—curled up like a cat, with the sheets of the bed all tangled up around him, his face peaceful and utterly gorgeous in rest—or she would have never said that the actor was sleeping.

Logan rested his head on the bed, right next to Julian's pillow, his eyes unblinking as he gazed at the unconscious brunet. He still looked beautiful—his long lashes resting on his pale cheeks and his dark hair splayed out over the whiteness of his pillow—but he absolutely did not look like he was asleep.

It would've been good if he'd been sleeping, Logan thought, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over Julian's hand with gentle strokes. Sleeping was good, a healing process, whereas a _coma_... Well. A coma was more like a violent lockdown of the body, a desperate attempt to protect it, merely functioning as a waiting room before death would come crawl over for a last visit. A last resort to prolong life.

_I wish you were sleeping._

He should be lucky Julian was alive to begin with. With multiple broken bones, one collapsed lung, a concussion, and an excessive amount of blood loss... it was a miracle he'd survived. Logan reached out lazily, brushing some brown strands out of Julian's face, letting his hand fall listlessly on the mattress after.

_You should be sleeping._

From the limited time he'd functioned as Julian's fake-bodyguard, he'd seen the actor fall asleep in the strangest places and at the most impossible times. On the couch, at the table, sitting on his kitchen counter with a cup of unfinished coffee in his hands and a blanket around his shoulders. And if Logan could've pushed away the darker thoughts—the ones about murders, guns and a lot of regrets—he would've smiled in remembrance at the brunet's most vulnerable moments.

"You should be asleep," he murmured, tenderly caressing Julian's cheek.

For a while, Logan could actually pretend that Julian was asleep—the sniper's slow strokes over Julian's hand following the pace of the actor's breathing, which didn't hitch for minutes, not even once. The heavy silence hanging in the hospital room only added to the desperate fantasy, creating the foundation of this short moment in which Logan was completely content living in this false moment of peace.

But with every good thing he ever created—whether it be mentally, emotionally, or physically—eventually even this fell apart. Julian's monitors started beeping—their tones gentle yet begging for attention—and at the same time, the horrendous pain in his leg returned. He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers clenched around Julian's hand, but the actor didn't wake up to react with his usually snappy answer—"_what?_"—and he didn't even flinch when Logan's grasp got so strong it had to be hurting him. Julian stayed eerily silent, the movements of his chest guided by the ventilation machine, the rhythm of his irregular heartbeats carefully registered on the monitor next to his bed.

And throughout his pain, Logan became aware of a black feeling dripping into his system, and he realized he'd never felt lonelier in his life. Not even when he'd woken up a few days ago without anyone by his side, not even when the pills had poisoned him and the black holes had threatened to overtake his mind, and not even when everyone in the world—even the world itself—had abandoned him so many years ago. Everything, absolutely _everything _in his body yearned to stay with the unconscious brunet, who he'd never seen so vulnerable in his life, who he wanted to protect and treasure no matter what. He wanted to stay with Julian forever—even if it was for purely selfish reasons, even if it was so Logan wouldn't be alone anymore.

He was so tired of always being alone.

_I don't want to be alone._

The pain in his leg flared up to an excruciating torture and before Logan could cover up his involuntary wince, the nurse was already by his side, gripping his wheelchair and taking him back to his room.

Logan held onto Julian's hand until the very last moment, until only their fingertips brushed over each other, the touch lingering but not lasting, and finally whisked away like waking up from a good dream.

_My mind is always on you._

* * *

><p>The police came by one day, messing up Logan's perfectly pristine room with various colors of blues and stern looking faces. His nurse of the day stood by in a corner, glaring at the intruders and obviously displeased with this disruption of his schedule, practically daring the officers to move one finger out of line so he could send them away.<p>

One of the officers walked over to Logan's bed, grabbing a chair and dropping into it without any form of invitation. He offered his hand, which Logan shook in a reflex, and introduced himself as 'McCartney'.

"So... Mr. Wright?" he asked as he pulled out a little notebook, glancing up at the blond expectantly.

Despite his pain and inner turmoil, Logan recovered quickly from his initial surprise—crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for this—not now, not ever. "What?"

The policemen looked at each other with raised eyebrows, some of them even sending a glare at the rude blond. Logan wasn't fazed, wasn't impressed in the slightest, and he glowered at the officer sitting in front of him.

"We'd like to know what happen—"

"No."

McCartney looked up in confusion, his fingers fiddling idly with his pen as he cocked his head in question. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean _no_, I'm not going to talk about _anything_," Logan explained, his voice low and menacing.

"Listen, Logan," the officer said patiently, expression softening as he leaned forward. "I understand that you need some time to heal, but we need to know what happened. People died, Logan, we need to get everyone's story straight."

Logan's cheeks flushed with color, his bright eyes blazing as he glared at the officer. "I'm not going to tell you _anything_—my _best_ friend is _dead_ and my... my... _Julian_ _Larson_ is still _unconscious_ and _hurt_, and—"

His nurse jumped towards him, his expression almost smug as he stood next to Logan, ready to hold him back if the blond tried to lunge at the officers. He stared up at the officers with clever, grey eyes, not even trying to repress his sneer as he politely asked them to leave.

"As you can see, my patient is still in shock, and he's emotionally very unstable—exactly like I told you an hour ago."

McCartney seemed to hesitate for a moment, but when he glanced at Logan again, he seemed to realize any sort of interview would be next to impossible. He sighed and shook his head as he surrendered. "Fine, we'll come back later—" He exchanged a questioning look with the nurse before looking back at Logan, almost as if he sought permission. "Your friend, he's—"

"Go _away_—" Logan rasped. It sounded less intimidating than he wanted it to be, and the officer's expression turned into one of pity as he looked down at the blond.

"We found—" he tried again, but Logan interrupted him for the second time.

"I don't want to _hear _it, go away—_please_, leave me alone—"

After what seemed to take ages, McCartney gazing deep in Logan's eyes as if trying to find something, the former pressed his lips together and nodded shortly, gesturing for the others to follow him.

"Good luck with recovering, Mr. Wright. We'll come back later, when you're feeling better."

As Logan stared after the officers leaving his room, he wondered when in the world that would be, and then he wondered if he would ever feel better again.

* * *

><p>The rain was pounding on the windows, the clattering water steady and calming, almost perfectly in beat with Julian's light breaths. Logan sat in a comfortable chair, his legs stretched out and resting on the bed, the laptop in his lap creating a strange hue of colors that illuminated his face, making his eyes swim in colors, so bright and brilliant they didn't seem to belong in this world.<p>

His leg wasn't hurting as much anymore and thanks to a few blood transfusions and a lot of rest, his blood loss had been cured and he didn't feel dizzy anymore every time he tried to stand. If he was being careful, and if he moved at the pace of a snail, he could stumble through his little hospital room all by himself. The last few days of his stay in the hospital, Logan spent more time in Julian's room than he spent time doing his therapies.

In all that time, Julian never opened his eyes, never moved—and after he'd told all his stories and after he was done complaining about the lack of good coffee in the hospital, Logan resorted to finally watching all the movies Julian had starred in. He watched completely transfixed as Julian—younger, happier, and absolutely beautiful—acted out his characters perfectly, and the tough sniper found himself laughing and crying and hurting along with the brunet in every single scene.

In one particular movie—one of the older ones in which Julian was only a teenager—the actor lay sprawled out in the grass, his pregnant fiancée besides him. They were holding hands and they whispered sweet words in each other's ear, his sepia gaze every so often lovingly touching her swollen stomach. It was the picture of happiness and young love—and it loosened all kinds of new emotions in Logan, awakening a love and tenderness so pure and so honest it made him feel invincible.

The brunet boy in the movie turned around—his eyes big and brown and utterly beautiful as they stared up at the girl straddling him—and he smiled a smile so happy and glowing it warmed Logan's heart. And when the boy cupped the girl's cheek and whispered the words, _"I love you_" with such intensity it pierced the silent air—Logan touched the screen and didn't think twice when he whispered the words back.

"I love you."

I love you.

_I love you_.

He'd never experienced love, didn't know what it felt like, didn't know what it tasted like, didn't know the power of it. But when Logan glanced away from his laptop for a split second, his eyes glistening as he looked down at the quiet brunet—so different from the careless boy in the movie—he realized that this was it.

This was love.

A never-ending fall, exhilarating and thrilling... absolutely frightening.

His hand didn't tremble when he reached out to take Julian's, their fingers lacing together easily, the touch instantly soothing. He sank a little in the chair and rested his head on Julian's pillow. For a few seconds he relished in the closeness, reassuring himself that as long as Julian was still here_,_ nothing bad would happen.

Having acknowledged these... new feelings... he noticed that his heart felt a little bigger and a whole lot lighter. He thought about how sad and unfair it was that he would realize his feelings at a time like this—when the person he loved was unconscious and hurt, and would probably be hurting for a long time to come. But before his thoughts could turn into even darker ones, he forced his attention back to the movie, where happier things were playing out.

* * *

><p>A week after that, and only one day before he'd be discharged, Logan discovered that happy things didn't only happen in movies.<p>

"Mister Logan Wright," the nurse tittered as she walked in her patient's room.

Logan's eyes snapped up and a suspicious expression crossed his face as he saw her happy smile. "Amber and smiling..." he sourly remarked. "You usually only smile at me like that when you want me to do something—and that usually involves pain. What's wrong now?"

Amber's smile only widened, her eyes sparkling as she walked closer. She placed her hands on the side rails of the bed, and her voice was loud and clear and glorious as she gleefully announced, "They're about to wake up Julian. They're taking him off the ventilation as we speak."

Logan didn't even notice the sudden tears on his cheeks, didn't really care when Amber reached out and handed him a few tissues. He did remember the time _he_ had woken up, how scared he'd been and how alone he'd felt—and he bluntly demanded to be brought to Julian immediately. He wouldn't let Julian experience that painful feeling of loneliness—not in a million years.

Amber smirked smugly at his demand and walked out of the room, only to reappear a few second later with a wheelchair in her hands. "If you hop into this, I'll bring you myself."

Logan shook his head and managed to stand up from his bed without falling over. "I can walk myself."

"And you'll reach your friend by the time he's ready to be discharged," the nurse stated dryly, pointing to the seat with a no-nonsense expression. "We'll do this how we've been doing this the entire time. Sit, Logan."

Narrowing his eyes in frustration, Logan limped over to the wheelchair and dropped heavily into it. Amber immediately rolled him out of the room and her shoes tapped rapidly against the floor as she flew him over the hallways.

She didn't go nearly fast enough.

When they finally reached the Intensive Care Unit and eventually Julian's room, Logan instantly saw the differences—the way Julian's eyebrows were pulled together in a frown, the way his serene expression had changed into a distressed one, the way he struggled to get his breathing right. Logan clasped onto the wheelchair, his eyes wide, his entire body yearning to be with Julian. Amber rested her hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly in an attempt to comfort him.

"They just took the ventilation tube out, because he's breathing on his own again," she said in a hushed voice. She was watching the actor with wide eyes, her gaze flickering from the mumbling doctors to the fast-moving ICU-nurses. "He should wake up in a few moments, but it may take a while. They're going to monitor him closely in the meantime, checking whether he's breathing okay enough on his own."

Logan nodded slowly, swallowing against the lump in his throat. "Okay."

When the doctors and nurses finally filtered out of the room—discussing the changed health status of their patient in hushed voices—Logan stood up from the wheelchair and slowly walked to Julian's bed. He looked down quietly, staring at the heavily breathing actor for a long time before he finally sank down into a more comfortable chair. Eventually, Logan took one of Julian's hands and laid his head on the brunet's pillow, their foreheads touching, their breaths ghosting over each other's cheeks.

"You can wake up now, Jules," Logan whispered with a tenderness so great it constricted his throat, made it difficult to speak clearly. He wanted to cry—to cry and scream and yell at the unfairness of it all. Because this wasn't over, wouldn't be over _at all_ when Julian woke up. There was still the pain and the heartbreak, and suddenly Logan wanted nothing more than for Derek to be here with him. Derek with his gentle eyes, his sanity, and his _absolutely _aggravating habit to always say the right thing. Logan pressed his lips together, letting the tears stream freely over his cheeks, his body shaking with repressed sobs.

_I'll do anything for you._

When after a few hours Julian's lashes fluttered and he finally opened his eyes—his sepia gaze glassy and unfocused, the meds circulating through his veins making him drowsy and sleepy—it took him a while to locate Logan, who was watching him with huge, hopeful eyes. But when he did and when their stares locked for the longest period of time, Julian granted Logan a halfhearted, cautious smile and he squeezed the blond's hand weakly.

"You're here," he whispered, his voice raw and fragile, and Logan winced when he heard it crack. Julian didn't seem to care about the pain, didn't seem to care about his surroundings, his wide eyes glistening with tears as he examined Logan's face. "You're _here_—"

_I'll do absolutely anything for you._

"Of course I'm here," Logan choked, his voice thick and full. One of his hands was suddenly moving up, his fingers tangling in Julian's hair, pulling him closer as their foreheads pressed together. Logan didn't think he'd ever cried this hard in his life. "Of _course_ I'm here—"

_I'll make this right._

Julian was crying too and he closed his eyes, but not in time for Logan to miss seeing the biting _hurt_ when all the memories came crashing down on him. The blond moved closer, half sitting and half lying on Julian's bed as he clutched the actor to his chest, holding him as tightly as he dared.

_I'll fix this._

_I'll fix this._

_I'll fix this._

* * *

><p>Logan had never really thought the world would be alright again when Julian woke up, but he'd secretly hoped for it. The realization that the painful road of recovery had just started burned in his heart and left it heavy with despair.<p>

At least things got better when Julian was moved to a normal ward, in a private room and with a hell of a lot less beeping monitors and hurrying people. Logan had found a cheap hotel room somewhere in the neighborhood, but he was spending most of his time in the hospital anyway, in- and outside of visiting hours. They had to thank the latter arrangement mostly because of Julian's celebrity status, but Logan liked to think his own charming smile had played a role too.

"Oh shit, are you okay?"

Logan jerked back when Julian cursed, scared as his hands fluttered uselessly over Julian's body, staring in fear as the actor squeezed his eyes shut in pain.

"Yeah—yeah, just don't—don't touch me… there," Julian gestured vaguely to his body and Logan snorted despite of the situation they were in.

"You just gestured to all of you."

"Yeah well, it's all of me that hurts," Julian mumbled, staring out of the window absently. "Does..." he hesitated and for one terrifying second Logan thought he was going to broach _that_ subject—but Julian seemed to change his mind the last moment. "...does anyone know?"

Logan cleared his throat and glanced away for a second. "Does anyone know what?" he whispered.

Julian turned around, staring at him with guarded eyes. "What you do. What you did. What you wanted to do... before... all of this."

Logan frowned. "I'm not... I never left traces... No one knows anything. Except for you and..."

"And..." Julian breathed, knowing what would follow and hating, hating, _hating_ where they were going.

"...Derek," Logan whispered, voice softer than a breath, broken and damaged and cracking.

Julian's face scrunched up, his eyes closed and his chin trembled as he tried to repress his intense grief. Logan's heart leaped, crashed, and he felt just as powerless as all those days ago—when he watched Clavell hold a gun against Julian's temple, when the gunshots sounded, when Julian fell, when Julian almost died...

As Julian tried to control his ragged breathing, Logan was left not knowing what to do, not knowing what he could say to soothe the actor. And he felt useless for it. So he did the only thing he could think of, the only thing he _could_ do. He crawled onto the bed and gently gathered Julian in his arms, pulling him against his chest as he sat back against the pillows.

"We don't know for sure," Logan murmured, absently brushing his fingers over Julian's arm.

"Do you—do you know anything about him? About what... happened?" Julian asked hoarsely, his voice strangely controlled and calm. "Do you know anything?"

Logan bit his lip and shook his head. "The police—the police came to talk to me a while ago," he answered quietly. "But I—I sent them out, because I was... I was angry and worried and... and hurt." He took a deep breath, remembering those days when Julian was still unconscious. "I don't know anything about Derek."

He heard Julian exhale slowly and he felt his body shiver as the actor tried to hold back his sobs. "Okay," Julian breathed. "Then we'll—they'll come back, right? The police? We'll just—we'll just ask them when they come back."

Logan was silent for a few seconds, contemplating this semi-hopeful suggestion. After a while, he pulled Julian closer and buried his face in his dark hair. "Yeah. We'll just do that."

* * *

><p>"No—<em>ow—<em>that _hurts_!" Julian hissed as the nurse helped him sit on the edge of his bed. The nurse hummed a response, but didn't stop from helping the actor sit up straight.

"It's good for your lungs, Julian," she argued, strict as ever as she held Julian's shoulder. "You don't want to develop pneumonia, do you? The sooner you get out of bed, the sooner you're allowed to go home."

Julian pressed his lips together, his eyes wide and pleading as he searched for Logan. "Help me?"

Logan snickered, face splitting in a halfhearted grin for the first time in hours. He'd been standing in a corner, well out of the nurse's way, and he'd been watching the brunet with great worry and concern. His hands twitched every other moment, like he wanted to jump in and safe Julian from the hands of the nurse—and Julian must have noticed this.

"He's not going to help you," the nurse said calmly. She pulled up a chair and as she held all the lines of the IVs in one hand, she motioned for Julian to get up. "Okay, this is how we're going to do it. I'm going to help you stand—"

"But my leg is _broken_," Julian protested, "I'm not _able_ to stand."

"That's why I'm here. It's been a while since you've broken your leg and I'm sure it's healed enough for it to hold your weight. If it hurts too much, you can rest your weight on your other leg. I'll help you stand and then you're going to turn around and _gently_ sit down in this chair."

Julian stared at her in complete horror, absolutely unconvinced of how this was supposed to go. "Do you want me _dead_?" Turning to Logan, he shook his head in fear. "She wants me dead—"

"You're going to be fine, Julian. I promise."

Biting his lip, Julian gazed from the chair to her and back to the chair. "Fine." He held out his arms and hooked them around the nurse's shoulders. "You sure you're able to hold me?"

The nurse snorted. "If I can't hold _you_, I'd better just quit my job. You're way too light for your own good." She pushed the chair closer to the bed with her foot and grabbed Julian's arm. "On three. One, two, _three_—"

She hoisted him up without effort, but Julian cried out in pain when his entire body protested against the sudden strain. He stood straight for a few seconds and then the nurse urged him to turn around and gently guided him in the chair. As she arranged the lines around him, Julian crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to relieve the pain, clenching his teeth and gasping for breath.

"_Ow_—"

The nurse smiled at him, draped a blanket over Julian's shoulders, and crouched down to his level. "You did a brilliant job, Julian. Very, very good. It's not easy, sitting down on a chair after such a long time in bed—but you did extremely well, and this is a good first step to recovery. I'm going to leave you alone for a little bit, but if you want to get back to bed, you should call me, okay? It's alright if that's after only a few minutes, whenever you feel like it." As she stood up, she nodded to Logan with a small smile and swiftly left the room.

Logan moved to sit on the edge of the bed, watching Julian in concern as he still tried to catch his breath. "Are you okay?"

"Do I _look_ okay to you?" the actor snapped, frustrated and hurt as he glared at the blond. "Idiot."

Logan smirked. "I'm glad to hear your inner bitch returned."

"Oh, fuck you," Julian muttered, closing his eyes as he eased back in the chair, sighing as he let his body relax. "This actually feels pretty good."

Logan snorted and muttered, "It's almost like they know what they're doing in here."

"Almost." Julian looked up at Logan, his smile sincere but sad, his eyes haunted by nightmares and idle hope. "Thank you, Lo."

Logan's lips twitched at the forgotten nickname. "What for?"

"For being here."

Before Logan could respond to that, before he could promise Julian that he'd always be here no matter what—two policemen walked in the room. He could hear Julian's trembling gasp and he could guess his expression even if he didn't see the actor's face.

"Hello boys," one of the policemen said, and Logan recognized him from before.

"We've been here before—a few weeks ago," the other continued, briefly glancing at Logan. "We didn't get the chance to ask you some of our questions, but we'd like to ask them again now—if you don't mind."

Logan stared at them, his chaotic thoughts only called back into order when he felt Julian's cold fingers lace with his. Julian shook his head, his eyes huge as he motioned towards the chairs in the corner.

"No, I don't mind," he breathed.

The officers seemed to sigh in relief and it took them only a few seconds to pull the chairs to the bed and sit opposite of the two boys.

"Before we—" McCartney hesitated and glanced at his colleague before continuing. "Before we get down to the questions of what exactly happened, we'd like you to identify a few people. If that's alright with you."

Logan's gaze slid from the officers to Julian, who was sitting motionless in his chair, all his pain seemingly forgotten, his expression endlessly scared. The sniper gently nudged the actor, reminding him to breathe, reminding him to answer the question.

"Yes," Julian whispered breathlessly.

The officer pulled two pieces of paper out of his bag, handed one of them to Logan and tapped onto the paper expectantly. "Him, we found in the same building the paramedics found you in. I suppose you know him?"

Logan tilted the photo so Julian could look at it, too. Julian's chin trembled as he stared at the dead face of Adam Clavell, but he nodded resolutely.

"That's the one who wanted me dead," he rasped. "He—he shot Logan and me."

"His name?"

"Adam Clavell," Logan muttered, glancing at the horrible picture one more time before handing it back. "His name is Adam Clavell."

"He was my stalker," Julian added. "He—I knew him before he went mad—but I—didn't know he'd—" He took a deep breath, managing to calm himself down a bit. "He tried to kill us."

"Okay," the officer wrote down the name in his notebook. "Now, the following picture is from someone we found in the house. We were able to identify the majority of the people we found there, but... we weren't sure about him..."

The room was loaded with a horrible, _awful_ tension that crawled up Logan's spine and constricted his nerves, making his body feel strangely numb. Julian's hand was trembling violently in his and when he looked sideways, he noticed that Julian's eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

The officer gave him the picture upside down, but Logan couldn't bring himself to move, couldn't for the life of him remember how to twist his wrist.

Julian helped him. He reached out, delicately took the picture from Logan's hand, and turned it around at once.

The silence in the room grew worse, grew so thick that it was nearly suffocating, and Logan heard Julian choke, felt his own breath hitch in his throat.

"We... found him in the house," one of the officers whispered.

Logan's heart was beating so fast and so thunderously loud, the officer's voice was barely audible, as if he was listening to it through a wall of glass. Julian's eyes were wide and filled with an incredulous terror as he stared at the picture, tears streaming down his cheeks and landing in dark spots on his sweatpants.

"He lost a lot of blood due to the bullets... in his body... He took out a lot of Clavell's men, they were lying in the same room, none of them alive."

"Is he—"

"There was one remarkable thing, though," the other officer added as in an afterthought, not having heard Julian's hesitating question or simply having ignored it. "His phone was lying a small distance away from him..."

Logan closed his eyes the same time Julian let the picture slip from his motionless fingers. It fluttered through the air, and fell to the floor with a feather light thud.

"...he'd dialed 911."

He felt his own tears slide down his cheeks and he felt the light weight of Julian as the brunet sagged against him. Logan pulled him closer, desperate to soothe him, desperate to _be_ soothed.

"The ambulances would've never come for you if it weren't for him. He saved you."

Logan's voice was hoarse and barely existent as he asked them one last thing—a question they all knew the answer to, but one he needed to have confirmed nonetheless. He _needed_ to know for sure.

"But is he—did he—?"

He needed to know for sure, needed to know if he really—really_, truly_—lost one of his closest friends, one of the very few people he cared about with all his heart.

McCartney lowered his gaze, shook his head. "I'm afraid... he didn't survive."

Julian made an awful sound in the back of this throat, something that sounded like a choked plea and a horrified cry at the same time.

"No—no, _please_—"

The certainty, the ice-cold realization that they would never be able to turn this around, that Derek would be gone forever, was terrifying. Completely stunned and overwhelmed with grief, Julian started to shake so violently Logan had to pull him against his chest to prevent him from hurting himself. The sniper didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do, and once again—for the thousandth time in way too short a period of time—he felt absolutely worthless.

Julian's sobs were devastating to listen to, soaked with so much despair and so much desolation, they ripped right through Logan's soul. He had to try his hardest not to fall apart right then and there, to hold it together for Julian, to be strong for the absolutely shattered actor in his arms.

The officers seemed almost afraid to ask and they hesitated for a few seconds, staring at the crying brunet, their expressions utterly miserable as they saw the broken look in Logan's eyes. But protocol was blazingly clear about this one, and they had to ask.

"...His name?"

Julian tried to answer that, felt that he was the one who should answer that question, but as soon as he tried to speak, renewed sobs tore from his lips and left him unable to pronounce anything. Logan closed his eyes and pressed a lingering kiss in Julian's hair, wanting nothing more than to make this horrible pain stop for both of them. He glanced at the officers with teary eyes, his voice cracking and breaking and sounding absolutely dreadful as he answered the question.

"Derek—Derek Seigerson."

Julian shuddered and Logan took a long, deep breath.

"His name is—was—Derek Seigerson."

* * *

><p><strong>So. Hah. I hope you liked it? :3<strong>

**Anyway, whether you liked it or not, thanks for reading! :D Reviews are hugely appreciated and I swear to god they _do_ help me to write faster ;) I'll try to finish this story as fast as possible, so I hope to see you soon again!**

**- Rose**


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